Black and Bones: A Love Story
by Jenni Rose
Summary: Hagrid and Sirius missed each other that long ago night. Harry's guardian is Sirius Black, his best friend is Susan Bones.
1. Chapter 1

-

The restaurant _The Fifth House_ was subtle, subdued and very, very expensive. Understated refinement and excellent food were its aims and it fulfilled them perfectly. Deferential waitresses, every one of them a witch, (squibs did not enter _The Fifth House'_s world view), took orders with soft voices and welcoming smiles, supervised by an imperious head waiter with airs enough for a Malfoy.

The shout of outrage echoing through the cool atrium was not what was expected of _The Fifth House_.

Heads turned to stare.

"Sirius Black!" the witch roared.

Eyebrows raised as the clientele recognised Madam Bones as the irate witch. Heads turned in the direction of the notorious Lord Black to observe his reaction.

Lord Black, dining with an excessively beautiful companion nobody recognised, leaned back in his chair and raised one elegant eyebrow.

"Dear me," he drawled, "this has been a day for interruptions. Whatever has come over people?"

"Sirius Black," Madam Bones continued to barrel towards him. "What is this I hear about you refusing to let your godson attend Hogwarts?"

"All this fuss? For a common little muddyblood?"

"How dare you speak about him like that."

Lord Black removed a speck of dust from his immaculate dark grey silk robe. "As he is my charge," his voice was silkily with menace, "I shall speak of him however I wish."

Madam Bones made a visible effort to regain control of her temper.

"Be that as it may, he should attend Hogwarts. Surely you can see that? It's his birth-right."

"Why should I waste good galleons educating what is as near as damnit a squib?"

"Do not even try that Black, everybody knows the Potters left more than enough to send their son to Hogwarts."

"I feel it would be more to ward's advantage to husband his resources so that he will have support through what is bound to be an unproductive life."

Madam Bones snorted, appeared to be about to speak, then drew back. She screwed her monocle more tightly in place.

"Fine then," she said, "I will pay his school fees."

"Thank you for your generous offer but,"

"I said I will pay his school fees and he will attend Hogwarts. Think carefully Black, the Wizengamot is unlikely to look kindly on a guardian denying his ward an education."

Lord Black shrugged his shoulders and relaxed more deeply into his chair.

"Very well. I had hoped to save the boy the shame of making a fool of himself, but if you insist, I am sure we can reach an accommodation. Now kindly cease making a scene, Amelia. You will quite ruin our fellow diners' digestion."

Madam Bones huffed and stalked away to rejoin her party. Lord Black returned his attention to his charming guest.

The latest gossip reached the Headmaster of Hogwarts approximately thirty minutes later. Albus Dumbledore smiled with satisfaction, he must thank Amelia for her successful intervention, Harry Potter would be coming to Hogwarts despite the best attempts of his godfather to prevent it.

-

Minerva McGonagall was not having a good day. Muggle day, when all the Muggle-born soon-to-be first years toured Diagon Alley was always a nightmare of epic proportions. Not only did she have to coordinate security with the shop-keepers and the Aurors, she also had to deal with ten or so Muggle families all determined to ask exactly the same endless list of questions, and ten or so Muggle-borns hyped up as if they were on pixie-dust.

And then Sirius Black turned up.

Minerva's headache upped to a grinding migraine and her fingers twitched for her wand. She wanted nothing more than to hex away the fine trappings that had deceived them all to reveal the darkness beneath.

It seemed wrong that there should be no outward sign of the evil he had committed. Nothing betrayed the traitor who had orchestrated his best friends deaths. Sirius Black was still just as handsome as when he been at Hogwarts breaking Gryffindor hearts right and left.

Not that he resembled that reckless schoolboy in Muggle jeans and trainers any more. This Sirius Black was dressed in the very finest pureblood style and stood with poised elegance, effortlessly drawing all eyes to him.

Minerva wasn't fooled, she could see past the glitz to the small, skinny boy, dressed in like a house-elf in a cut down sack, standing in his shadow. The boy had dark messy hair, heartbreakingly beautiful green eyes and a huge purple bruise obscuring the right side of his face.

"Minerva, how delightful to see you again," the bastard Black smiled broadly.

Her animagus side yearned claw those smirking eyes. She straightened her spine.

"Lord Black, I wish I could say the same."

"Now don't be like that Minnie."

She couldn't help flinching at the nickname James Potter had bestowed upon her as a cocky fifth year.

"What are you doing here?"

"It's mudblood day, so I brought my little muddyblood along."

It took everything Minerva had not to curse him at the casual way he said it. She took a deep breath and said, as calmly as she could,

"Black, Harry is not a Muggle-born. You are perfectly capable of escorting him around Diagon Alley."

"I have far more valuable things to do with time. Still, if you don't want to be bothered with him, and believe me I more than understand, we can leave. Come along brat." He grabbed a handful of the sack the poor child was wearing and hoisted him in the air, startling a squeak out of the boy.

"Wait!"

"Oh?" Black turned back.

Minerva hastily rearranged her thoughts. While it was quite outrageous for Sirius Black to bring the Potter heir to Muggle day, it did mean she could shame the man into providing decent supplies for his godson.

"You may stay."

-

Albus Dumbledore looked up as Minerva stormed into his office.

"Albus something must be done about the Potter boy."

"What has Harry done now?"

"Harry hasn't done anything. It's that man." Minerva hissed like an angry cat.

"I assume you are speaking of Sirius Black."

"Yes he brought his 'little mudblood' to Muggle day. He was appalling. I don't know what the Muggle parents thought. I wanted to sink through the pavement with shame. If Amelia hadn't turned up I don't know what I would have done."

"Amelia came?"

"With Susan, the Aurors on duty alerted her to Black's presence. Black still seems bent on arranging a marriage between Susan and Harry."

Or more precisely, thought Albus, bent on gaining control of the Bones seats on the Wizengamot.

"So once she arrived he was mostly focused on her. Smarming all over her, 'wasn't it nice to see the children growing up' 'wasn't it time to consider their futures'. I don't know how the poor woman stood it."

"Madam Bones' objection to betrothing Susan before she is of age is well known."

"If you ask me that's nothing more than a delaying tactic to put Black off as long as possible."

Albus smiled fondly at his deputy, dear Minerva did not have a political bone in her body. Amelia's desperate stalling was perfectly obvious to the entire Wizengamot. Albus was certain any other offer for her niece would be seized on with the clutch of a drowning man. Not that any other was likely to be forthcoming, nobody was interested in directly opposing Voldemort's right hand man. Which was why Sirius Black was prepared to play a waiting game.

And why Amelia would grow increasingly frantic as Susan's seventeenth birthday approached, which should tip her further and further into Albus' camp as the one Wizard willing to protect her beloved niece.

Albus Dumbledore knew how to play a waiting game too, and he had outlasted better men than Sirius Black.

"Not that it made him behave any better," Minerva continued. "He treats poor Harry worse than house-elf. He shoved him and slapped him, even grabbed him up by his ankles and shook him."

"That is most disturbing," Albus said, because that was clearly the appropriate thing to say.

"It is more than 'disturbing'. Harry must be moved, immediately."

"Now Minerva, let us not be hasty. Harry is joining us at Hogwarts this September, he will be quite safe here."

"Albus."

He shook his head sadly, "Unfortunately Sirius Black is Harry's godfather and guardian. The Potters' wills were extremely explicit. There is literally nothing Sirius can do that would revoke his guardianship."

"He betrayed the boy's parents to their murderer, cares nothing for the boy himself, and yet we still cannot revoke his guardianship?"

"No, but in a way we have been lucky. Think how much worse it would be if Sirius had doted on the boy. If Harry had been brought up as the heir to Voldemort's right hand."

Minerva blanched and Albus could see his deputy final understood the nightmare that had been haunting him since that long ago November.

"Great Merlin," she whispered.

"Yes. Harry is quite probably be the Child of the Prophecy, for him to have gone dark would have been a disaster from which we may never have recovered. His mother's Muggle blood has saved us from that fate."

"But must he really stay with Black?"

"Unfortunately he must," said Albus gravely. He wasn't altogether displeased with the situation, although he had no intention of admitting as much to his deputy. Black obviously had no intention of permanently harming the boy, probably because that would cut his access to the boy's Gringotts vaults, and a difficult background for Harry would only make him that much more keen and eager to do well once he reached Hogwarts. Really everything was working out for the best.

"We must be sure to welcome Harry to Hogwarts," he continued, "and help him to understand that he has finally come home."

Minerva's spine straightened as she took on the new responsibility. After a moment of thought, she said, "Headmaster, do you suppose Remus Lupin would be willing to accept a position at Hogwarts?"

"An excellent idea Minerva. I am sure Harry would enjoy the chance to meet one of his parents' true friends. I shall arrange it."

-


	2. Chapter 2

-

Amelia Bones automatically checked the positions of her Aurors after she had apparated herself and Susan to Diagon Alley. It was natural for the parents of Muggle-borns to insist on seeing some of the Wizarding World, but Muggle Day was a complete nightmare from a security point of view. Thankfully by their second year most Muggle-borns had made Wizard-born friends whose parents were willing to take them to the Alley.

She gave Susan's hand a quick squeeze and smiled down at her niece as Susan smiled up at her.

"Game face ready?"

"Yes Aunty." Susan's eyes went big and wide and somehow stupid.

"Good girl." Amelia smiled proudly before stiffening her face into a firm mask. "Let's go."

Sirius and Harry had already arrived. Sirius was being perfectly outrageous, and, good Merlin, but what was Harry wearing?

"It's not a derogatory term Minnie," Sirius smirked at poor Professor McGonagall and swung his swagger stick to emphasise his point, clearly enjoying himself enormously. "Just facts. They have got dirty blood. Now, if I wanted to be derogatory, I'd call 'em..."

McGonagall cut him off sharply, "That is quite enough." She was bristling all over like an outraged cat.

Sirius just shrugged lazily in reply. "Well, go associate with your own kind my little muddyblood." His hand drifted towards Harry, and suddenly the boy was rolling forward to sprawl all over the floor. He yelped miserably.

The whole crowd of Muggle-borns and parents stared in disbelief. Sirius practically preened under the attention.

Harry scrambled to his feet, not looking in the least hurt by his crash into the ground. Amelia frowned, she'd have to speak to him about that.

Susan ran forward to hug Harry and stare at Sirius with big, frightened eyes.

"It's okay Harry," she said loudly enough for the assembled crowd to hear. "We'll be at Hogwarts soon."

McGonagall noticed her then, and Amelia had to hide a smile as the poor woman fell on her like she was her one salvation.

"Madam Bones, how lovely to see you again."

"Amelia, how wonderful to see you here," Sirius came towards her, one hand raised to claim hers. Amelia deftly side-stepped him and took McGonagall's hand to shake instead.

"Good morning Professor McGonagall. My Aurors let me know you were all here. I thought I might bring Susan along too."

"We would be happy to have Susan join us. She can give our new students a child's eye view of the magical world."

"Not sure I approve of her associating with the mudbloods," tutted Sirius.

Amelia threw him her most glacial stare, "Thankfully Lord Black it is not up to you to approve of Susan's conduct."

"Not yet anyway," chuckled Sirius.

It always surprised Amelia, used to Sirius cheerfully amused bark of laughter, how much darkness he could pack into his cackle.

She edged away from him, turning towards McGonagall "Professor, don't let us disrupt you any further. Where would you like us to go first?"

"Uh yes." McGonagall glanced around at the Muggle parents, who were all staring at Sirius with appalled fascination. "Right."

Amelia had never seen the Professor look so flustered.

"Daddy, why did that man hit his little boy?" asked a bushy-haired girl with an unfortunately penetrating voice.

"Because he's a poor excuse for a human being," said the father. He clearly meant to be overheard.

Sirius raised one eyebrow, "Dear me, your Muggles are being awfully forward Minnie. I do hope you explained to them the importance of respecting their betters."

"The first shop, Professor McGonagall," said Amelia, cutting across several of the Muggles attempts to say something.

"Yes, yes." McGonagall scrabbled at her parchment lists. "Yes, first on the list is course books. Please follow me to Flourish and Blotts."

"Amelia," Sirius gave a courtly bow and offered her his arm, which she accepted with a show of reluctance. McGonagall gave her a grateful look and started to shepherd the curious Muggles away from them.

Amelia settled down to enjoy watching Sirius, ably assisted by Harry, strive to carry an already over the top performance to even greater heights.

Sirius point-blank refused to buy Harry the kitten he had apparently set his heart on. Apparently, because that morning, discussing strategies, Harry had confessed what he really wanted was an owl. In Eeylopes, Sirius flicked one finger to direct Harry away from the snowy owl he was staring at with longing eyes, and towards a comfortable looking barn owl.

Harry caught on and begged hopefully for the barn owl.

Sirius refused to buy the barn owl too and cuffed him over the head for whining. Then he reached up to take down the cage containing the snowy owl that had caught Harry's attention.

The shopkeeper leapt forward,

"Eh, careful there my Lord, that owl is vicious."

"That's all to the good," Sirius waved the man away. "She'll keep my ward on his toes." He opened the cage and coaxed the owl out. She clacked her beak but otherwise remained calm as Sirius spread her wings to check their span and inspected her claws.

Sirius scratched her head and she mewled a soft pyee-pyee and pressed closer to his hand.

Amelia coughed repressively and Sirius flushed guiltily.

"I suppose it will do," he snapped. He shoved the owl, carefully and gently, back into her cage and thrust it at Harry. "Better take care of her brat."

Harry glowed up at him and the next head cuff was definitely more of a hair ruffle.

Amelia coughed again and confiscated the owl before they completely gave themselves away.

Harry left to ogle kittens with Susan, doing a good job of looking heart-broken at not having one. Sirius started to rant to Amelia about her niece's common Muggle tastes. It would have worked better if his checking over Susan's choice hadn't left the little creature a boneless sprawl of purring contentness.

Fortunately the Muggles seemed to take more note of Sirius' words and Amelia couldn't blame then because Sirius had a seriously wicked tongue and the haughtiness to carry it off. By the time he was finished everyone in that alley believed that having a wand hand carved specifically for his ward was an act of malicious cruelty, and not that of a guardian desperate to scrabble together any advantage he could for his ward.

And finally they came to the piece de resistance.

Amelia and Susan didn't know what they had planned. Sirius said he wanted to see their genuine reactions. By which he meant he and Harry wanted to show-off.

She could tell it was coming. The tempo of Sirius' denunciation was building steadily as they waited for Muggle-borns to visit Ollivanders one at a time. Then Harry and Susan led the other children to stare through the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies.

He affected not to notice immediately, though Amelia knew they had both been tracking Susan and Harry's positions to the half foot all day. Then, when the stage was set, Sirius turned his head and 'spotted' his ward.

His bellow of outrage captured the whole alley's attention. Two of her Aurors actually looked ready to intervene and Amelia quickly signalled them to stand down.

"What did I tell you, you disrespectful, disobedient brat?"

The children skittered away as Sirius bore down until it was just Harry staring up at his guardian with painfully wide eyes.

"Cat got your tongue boy? Better speak now or you'll lose the privilege for a week." Sirius flicked his wand meaningfully.

"Y-you said n-not to look at the brooms," quavered Harry.

"And why not."

"Because if I do I'll grow up to be a d-disrespectful hooligan like my f-father."

"Exactly." He swooped down, momentarily hiding Harry from view, and when he straightened, Harry hung pathetically in the air, suspended upside down by Sirius' hands around his ankles. Shocked gasps whipped around the alley and McGonagall said something in Scotch that sounded very un-professor like.

Amelia was reluctantly impressed that they pulled it off without smashing Harry's head into the pavement. She just hoped like hell nobody was looking at Harry's face because he and Sirius were both beaming proudly and, for all Harry wasn't Sirius' birth son, their thoroughly-pleased-with-themselves grins were identical.

She checked on her niece and frowned awfully at her until Susan looked less like she wanted to applaud and more appropriately horrified.

"Right," said Sirius, having milked the scene for all it was worth. "We'll be off."

They vanished with a positive thunderclap of apparition.

The Muggles all stared at the still glowing spot where they had been standing.

"Well," said the father who'd criticised Sirius earlier. "I can see we'll need to keep a much closer eye on Hermione than you implied Professor McGonagall. Wizards may know all there is to know about magic but clearly they are severely lacking in other areas. Barbara and I will certainly be in touch regarding a parents and teachers association."

Amelia nearly cheered out loud. One of them had taken the bait. Schooling her face to hide her triumph, she drew the man aside,

"Mr Granger, perhaps I could give you my card."

-


	3. Chapter 3

-

Historical note (because I'm a history geek, sorry) The timing of the Wizarding Secrecy Act suggests to me that while the Stuarts were Wizards, the Hanoverians definitiely weren't. (James I was so obviously a Squib, I'm amazed it's not actually true)

-

-

Lucius flung the door open with a dramatic crash,

"Your cousin has been making a spectacle of himself again."

He stalked into his wife's boudoir. Narcissa paid him no mind at all. She was staring at her reflection as she held two necklaces up against her throat.

"Which do you think, the emeralds or the sapphires?"

"Could you concentrate for one minute, Narcissa."

Narcissa laid the necklaces aside and assumed a pose of attentive listening. Lucius glared.

"This is important."

"Yes dear. But you shouldn't let Sirius agitate you like this. You know how he enjoys it."

"I know that he enjoys shocking the Muggle-lovers, but he was abusing the Boy-Who-Lived in the middle of Diagon Alley."

"Abusing?" Narcissa raised one faint pencilled eyebrow.

"Treated the boy like a house-elf. Actually picked him up by his ankles apparently."

Narcissa nodded. "That sounds more like him. Sirius has always been an awful drama queen."

Lucius stared at his wife and wondered yet again if she had two thoughts to rub together in her beautiful, empty head.

Narcissa continued to prattle. "You shouldn't pay him any mind. Attention only encourages him. When he was little..."

"I am not interested in how he behaved twenty years ago. I am interested in his behaviour today. The common Wizards worship the Boy-Who-Lived. Every time the Prophet writes about Black mistreating him, we lose support."

She blinked at him, "We care what the common people think?"

"Narcissa, do I have to explain how the voting system works again. There are more of them than there are of us."

"That's why you hex the ballot boxes, Lucius."

"We wouldn't have to hex the ballot boxes if your blasted cousin could just learn to control himself."

"Why should he? He is a Black after all."

Lucius carefully did not clutch at his hair, although he was tempted. He intensely admired the Black's centuries old lineage, but he did sometimes wish somewhere in the mix was some slightly less exulted blood and slightly more common-sense.

The Blacks might believe a haughty look was all they needed to continue on their heedless way, but the common people worshipped their boy saviour.

Lucius was well aware of the lessons of the last Wizard-Kings of England. His ancestors has switched sides promptly – only Malfoy ingenuity could have produced Glencoe – the Blacks had hung on to the bitter end, that Lord Black only avoiding trial for breaching the Secrecy Act by dying at Culloden. The damn Blacks never thought the rules applied to them.

"You think he'd have learnt his lesson from his first appearance with the boy. They nearly lynched him."

"Sirius never makes the same mistake twice."

Lucius sometimes wondered if he and Narcissa were having the same conversation. "Darling," he said through gritted teeth. "This is important. The common people will only stand so much. If your cousin continues on this way they will revolt."

"What do you want me to do?"

Finally. "Tell him to moderate his behaviour. He can treat the boy however he wishes in private but he must observe the properties in public.

She laughed, a light rippling sound, "Darling, Sirius would never listen to me. And why should a Black concern themselves with properties. Really, you would do much better not to impute your own motives to Sirius. My cousin is extraordinary."

Lucius sighed, "Yes, yes, he's a Black, what else would he be but extraordinary."

"Precisely," said Narcissa, blissfully unaware of his sarcasm. "Now Darling, the emeralds, or the sapphires?"

"Rubies," he said sharply, abandoning any further attempt to talk sense into his wife.

"Rubies? With ice-blue? Very few could carry it off, but then, I am a Black."

Lucius slammed out the room before he gave vent to his frustration.

-

Alice Longbottom sighed with relief as she and her husband closed the door on the outside world, leaving them alone inside their blissfully peaceful home. Fortunately Neville was off rampaging with Weasleys because, as much as she wanted to hug her son after witnessing that scene in Diagon Alley, she wanted time to recover herself first.

Frank pushed past her, heading for the smaller sitting room and liquor cabinet.

"One for me too, please," she called after him. "It's been a firewhiskey kind of a day."

He grunted in agreement and she heard the chink of glass against glass. She kicked off her shoes and didn't bother to pick up her cloak when it missed the peg and dropped to the floor. Following her husband into the lounge, she collapsed onto the sofa with a sigh of relief.

Frank sank down beside her, a glass in each hand.

"Can you believe it?" She rubbed her eyes as if there was some illusion she could dispell. "I just wish Madam Bones hadn't told us to stand down. If we'd grabbed Sirius and shaken some sense loose, maybe we could have figured out what's been up with him these last ten years."

Frank raised one glass in a silent agreement before taking a hefty sip. Alice accepted her own glass, but she just stared meditatively into the amber liquid. Sometimes she thought her brain would break from the struggle of trying to reconcile her wild, cheerful friend with the haughty pure-blooded aristocrat.

"Do you suppose Sirius is possessed?"

Frank shook his head sharply. "Checked."

"Oh, but maybe-"

"No, checked when his mother bought him out of Azkaban and again when he started showing up with Harry looking black and blue."

"Oh."

Frank helped himself to some more firewhiskey.

"Maybe his mother used a mind-altering curse on him?"

"Checked."

"But he loved Harry so much. I can't believe he was faking that."

"Purebloods go strange over their heirs."

"They do, particularly the Slytherin blood-purists, not that Sirius was a Slytherin." Alice groaned and pressed her hand to her aching head. She never managed to force the facts into a pattern she could believe. "And I never thought of all people _Sirius_ would revert like that. James was his brother. He loved him and Lily and little Harry so badly."

"Sold them out to Riddle."

"You don't believe that."

Frank shrugged his shoulders.

"You never have," she accused and wished she knew why her husband was so careful to never express a definitive opinion one way or the other. "You didn't believe it even before they had the trial and he confirmed he was innocent under veritaserum."

"Maybe I just had faith in Black's ability to beat veritaserum."

"Oh shut up," she snapped, annoyed that he had yet again avoided the question. "Nobody can beat veritaserum."

Except it might not be true anymore. Certainly the rest of Wizarding World believed Sirius had been lying through his teeth. The headlines in the Daily Prophet after the Wizengamot had been forced to declare him innocent had been awestruck. They'd also been a lot more polite than those pre-trial.

"They could have, Sirius, James and Lily, if they put their minds to it."

"Okay, they probably could have. Especially Sirius, he broke the Riddle's Imperius, remember."

Frank downed the rest of his firewhiskey, because no, neither of them would forgetting that night any time soon. For all it was over ten years ago, it took only the stench of a Muggle-car exhaust and Alice was right back there dodging speeding cars and curses, sticky with blood, half-blind from deadly bright flash of magic and the relentless headlights.

A hand grabbed hers, Alice concentrated on the her husband's hard, reassuring grip and resolutely focused her mind on the present. Taking a deep breath, she returned to their conversation.

"But you still don't think he's guilty."

Frank shrugged his shoulders again.

"And I, I can't quite believe it either. I mean, I could believe Riddle broke him, not easily, but I could. Out and out betrayal though..."

"Not very Sirius."

"No. We should really speak to.." But Alice could feel her mind drifting away from the idea. What did she know anyway? Who was she to challenge... With an effort she dragged her attention back to the problem at hand.

"Poor little Harry. It was completely appalling the way he treated him." She blinked a little. "And he was nice to Harry. At the beginning. It was after that disastrous trip to Diagon Alley that he changed."

"Crowd nearly killed them both."

"It was a mess," she agreed, "We were so happy when Sirius came back to the Wizarding World after his mother died. And Harry was such a cute little boy. I was horrified when Albus warned us all Sirius was turning him dark."

The rest of the Order had been horrified too, although Dedaleus Diggle broaching the subject in the middle of Diagon Alley, at the top of his voice, perhaps hadn't been the best way to handle things.

Her mind drifted again and she sighed, "I guess in a way we have been lucky. Think how much worse it would be if Sirius had doted on the boy. If Harry had been brought up as the heir to Voldemort's right hand."

Frank took another swig of firewhiskey.

-

The floo chimed and Molly Weasley quickly checked her dinner preparations, the pastry was kneading itself, while three peelers worked on the massive pile of potatoes, she always made extra when Neville came over, the poor boy didn't get enough proper home-cooked meals with his gadabout of a mother, and hurried into the living room to greet her husband as he returned from work. Drying her hands on a tea towel she gave him a quick kiss.

"Darling, how was your day?"

"Fine," he said, as he always did, but it looked more distracted than normal.

"Is something wrong?"

"They say Black brought Harry Potter to Muggle day."

"But why?"

Arthur snorted, "You know he will insist on calling the boy a mudblood."

"That's nonsense. Maybe Lily was a Muggle-born but the Potter lineage is impeccable."

"Be that as it may, Black loathes the boy, that's clear enough. The Potters must be turning in their graves."

"They shouldn't have trusted a Black so blindly. They could've guessed he'd revert."

"He fooled a lot of people, Molly."

"Hah, and poor little Harry bears the brunt of it. I have never understood why nobody has found that boy another home."

"I guess in a way we have been lucky. Think how much worse it would be if Sirius had doted on the boy. If Harry had been brought up as the heir to Voldemort's right hand."

Molly growled. "Arthur I have told you before that's no sort of answer."

"But –"

"I do not care. I tell you now, and I have told Albus Dumbledore to his face, that Black should never have had charge of Harry Potter."

"There's nothing he could do, Molly. Black is his guardian. The law is the law."

She snorted.

"But on the plus side, the law might change. This latest kerfuffle is being reported so widely, it might be the final push required to get the Wizengamot to pass Gladys Macmillan's Magical Child Protection Act."

Molly wasn't sure how she felt about that. She'd like to see some Ministry busybody try to tell her how to raise her children. But on the other hand, something had to be done to protect children in Harry's situation. And, though they were less extreme than Black, many of the blood-purist families held extremely outdated notions on the proper care of children.

"Humph," she said folding her arms.

"And Harry will be at Hogwarts soon enough, he'll be safe there."

She brightened, "Very true. Gryffindor, of course, we must speak to Ron and Neville about making sure to welcome him."

-


	4. Chapter 4

Note: I fail at fanfictionnet, I do not know why chapter 3 vanished briefly but it has now reappeared, I think

-

Amelia returned home from a very successful meeting with Gladys Macmillan, who was shepherding her Magical Child Protection Act through the Wizenmagot.

"I've had seven floo-calls offering support," Gladys had reported gleefully. "One of them from the McLaggens, they're worth ten votes on their own. I really think we'll make it this time. Provided that bastard Black hasn't got deeper pockets than we expect."

Right now that bastard Black was sprawled out on Amelia's sofa with Susan, Harry, kitten and owl piled up on top of him, all of them fast asleep.

As Amelia walked into the room, the owl's head turned and beady eyes inspected her.

"Prek," said the owl decisively and closed her eyes again.

"Well that told me." Amelia carried on to the kitchen, stopping abruptly at the swirling chaos.

Sirius had obviously forgotten to release the enchantments on the washing up again. Freshly washed crockery was waltzing around the room to the tune being played by the cutlery and saucepans. Something was cooking smelling rich, spicy and not burnt, so the chances of dinner were good.

Assuming she could get to the dinner. Flicking her wand a couple of times, Amelia directed plates and pots back to their cupboards until the room was clear and she could see the recipe book floating anxiously in front of the hob as it timed whatever it was bubbling away. When Amelia tried to check on the food, it flapped its pages reproachfully at her.

Finally, after she drew her wand, it reluctantly reshaped its title to inform her 'Five minutes left – but what would I know I'm only the recipe book.'

Amelia used to have beautifully behaved enchanted objects. Then Sirius started hanging around and they picked up truculence, sarcasm and the ability to make really good Thai curry.

Overall it probably balanced out.

Arguing with a bundle of parchment was beneath her – she'd loose anyway – so she went to rouse the troops. Sirius' left foot was helpfully within reach, propped up on the arm of the sofa, and she shook it softly.

"Come on trouble."

Sirius blinked sleepily at her. "I'm not trouble."

"I have never heard such a blatant lie in my life."

He blinked again, slow and deliberately flirtatious. "You wrong me, my lady. Harry's the one that's trouble."

"Like father, like son," she replied tartly.

Sirius winced, as he always did, at the reference to Harry being his son. Amelia understood the complicated tangle of guilt at usurping his best friend's role as father in Harry's life and self-hatred at enjoying and being glad of the role but –

"Harry deserves a father," she said gently.

"Hypocrite," Sirius accused, without heat.

Amelia glared at him. Her and Susan's situation was completely different.

"You should take your own advice Melia. It wasn't your fault."

Amelia knew he was right, mostly. But she was Susan's mother older sister, it had been her responsibility to take care of her and she had failed.

Before the silence could grow too uncomfortable, the owl woke up and croaked loudly. The children started to wriggle awake, dislodging the pets and Amelia had to make a quick grab for kitten. Cawing wildly, the owl circled the room, Harry yelped when Susan elbowed him in the stomach, and Susan shrieked when Sirius sat all three of them up.

Amelia raised her voice to call for calm and only succeeded in adding to the din. So she held out an authoritative arm for the owl to land on, quietening the over-excited animal; dropped the kitten into Susan's lap, which diverted her niece; and put her now free hand over Harry's mouth.

"Sssh," she warned, "you'll frighten your owl."

"Nothing frightens Hedwig."

Amelia was inclined to agree that the owl looked a particularly robust sort. "You named her already?"

"Uh huh," Harry nodded proudly and held out one arm to take his owl back.

"Gerda is called Gerda," said Susan, holding her kitten up to be admired. Amelia petted the little thing's head.

"They are all de-fleaed and everything?" she checked. She was not having everyone coming down with ringworm or something equally unpleasant. "Right Sirius?"

"Course they are," he said. "I'm not going to let the kids' pets run around sick."

"Okay then. Let's get washed up and have dinner."

Amelia had steeled herself to be the bad guy when it came to feeding the pets table scraps but Sirius turned out to have unexpectedly firm views on feeding animals people-food.

"It's mean," he explained to the fascinated children. "You wouldn't want to eat minced mouse, would you?"

"Errgh no," squeaked Susan and even Harry, who had a boy's appreciation for grossness, didn't contest the statement.

"So animals need different food to people. Which is why we buy special food, just for them, otherwise we might make them sick."

He received two feverent promises that they would never, ever feed their pets anything but pre-approved food and he was able to persuade them to leave the animals in the living room with a minimum of fuss.

"That is okay, isn't it?" he said quietly, as the children washed their hands. "I know a lot of families just feed their pets any old thing, but even though it costs more, the premade stuff really is better for them."

"Sirius, you convinced them not to feed their pets at the table, I don't much care how you did it. And if you think it's best, that's what we'll do. But that reminds me," she tugged at the sleeve of t-shirt to make him pay his attention, "When Lord Black appears in public, you can never go anywhere near animals."

"What? Why not?"

"Because Dark Lords rarely snuggle kittens."

"I was checking it was healthy," he protested, not quite meeting her gaze.

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say Sirius."

"We were good though?" asked Harry eagerly. "Weren't we Aunty Amelia? We had them all fooled?"

"Yes you did." She crouched down in front of him so she look at him directly. "But you do need to be careful. Harry when Sirius knocks you down, you need to act like it hurt. Just for a minute or two, limp or maybe rub your elbow."

Harry considered that, "Okay. But we were still good, weren't we?"

"Yes Harry, you were very good. Everybody was convinced. McGonagall was ready to claw Sirius' eyes out."

Harry's bright green eyes hardened and for just a second he looked a lot older than eleven. "She shouldn't think nasty things about my – about Sirius."

Sirius laughed easily. "It's okay Harry, I was being as provoking as I knew how. And, with you and Susan going to Hogwarts, I'm going to get the chance to be a lot more provoking. In fact Amelia," he helped her to her feet, "I give you ten to one odds Dumbledore bans me from the school within the year."

Amelia shook her head. She didn't want to take away his main method of striking back at those who should never have doubted him, but as enjoyable as baiting Dumbledore would be, it wasn't the practical course of action. She fixed her most disapproving look on her face.

"You will not destroy one of our best weapons because it amuses you. The Blacks' hereditary seat on the Hogwarts' board will allow you to come and go at will. We need that advantage. And Harry needs that protection."

"I know," Sirius sighed. Then he reverted to playful and pouted horribly, "You're taking all the fun out of this. Can't I be even a little provoking?"

"Maybe," she allowed. "If I get to play too."

"Us too," chimed Susan and Harry, bouncing under their feet.

"Of course my little marauders will play too." Sirius swept them both up in a hug. "We can't make any definitive plans until we know which Houses you're in. I have told you both I don't mind which Houses you're in, right?"

"Yes Uncle Sirius," said Susan patiently. "At least ten times."

Harry just sighed long-sufferingly.

"Good. Because I may have to say a lot of rubbish depending on your House, and you may hear a lot of rubbish too, but absolutely none of that matters. Your Aunt and I are incredibly proud of you and we will be whatever House you're sorted into."

While Amelia knew Sirius really meant it, she was shamefully aware that it wasn't quite accurate for her. She could probably swallow Gryffindor for Harry because of his birth parents but, deep in her heart, it was Hufflepuff or nothing.

She would never admit it out loud, or even imply as much to the children, but it was true all the same. So she let Sirius reassure their children because she couldn't quite bring herself to.

"I mean," Sirius continued, "if you get any sort of choice at all, I suggest you don't pick Slytherin, because you'll be crucified. If you end up in Gryffindor all you'll get is me yelling at you, and you'll know I don't mean it."

"You were in Gryffindor, weren't you Uncle Sirius?" asked Susan, exchanging a glance with Harry that Amelia just knew meant they were plotting something.

"Yes, but mostly because I was desperate to escape my family. Which is not the best way to choose a House. Not that'd I change meeting your parents for anything Harry."

"Would my birth-dad want me to be in Gryffindor?"

Amelia could see Sirius struggle between what he knew to be the truth and what he wanted to be the truth.

"Well yes Harry, he would have preferred you to be in Gryffindor, the Potter's always have been. But he would have loved you and been proud of you no matter what."

"Good thing I'm a Black then," said Harry.

"Harry, I told you that was to make sure the magic recognised you as my heir. You're still Harry Potter."

"Harry James Black."

Amelia blinked a little, because, while Harry was a carbon-copy of James Potter, that stubborn jut of his chin was all Sirius.

"You said Harry could choose whichever name he wanted," Susan reminded.

"And it's a fine name," said Amelia quickly, before Sirius could start to struggle yet again with the impossibility of making Harry love a ghost.

Sirius swallowed, "Right then." He shook his head briskly. "Okay. Ravenclaw never really struck me as much fun all things considered. But if that's what floats your boat, go for it."

"And Hufflepuff?" asked Harry.

"Hufflepuff would be a good, solid choice." Sirius moved over to the table and slid Susan onto her chair.

Amelia suddenly realised Sirius wanted the children in Hufflepuff too. Which made her feel both less, and more, guilty. When she recalled how Sirius' family had him suffer for being a Gryffindor, she definitely felt more guilty.

Knowing Sirius agreed with her, even if neither of them would ever admit it, allowed her to stop feeling defensive about her position and to reassess it. Because, though she wanted her kids in Hufflepuff, they wouldn't stop being her kids whatever House they were sorted into.

Sirius deposited Harry on his chair, "But the important thing to remember is that no matter what House you're sorted into, or what anybody says about it, I will always love you both and be proud of you."

Even if they made Slytherin, which wasn't that unlikely given the way Harry postively burned with purpose.

Susan did too, in a quieter way. Amelia had long accepted that Bones followed Black alphabetically and Susan had more than enough fierce Hufflepuff loyalty to ensure she'd follow Harry in House choice.

Taking a deep breath, she finally made her peace with the knowledge that this was one thing she couldn't control for Harry or Susan and, no matter how much safer they would be in her old House, she couldn't force them into Hufflepuff.

It didn't hurt near as much as she'd thought, just a wistful pang for what might have been.

"And so will I," she said firmly.

Sirius grinned at her, eyes full of i-told-you-sos which, given they had never discussed the matter out loud, was annoying.

-

After they'd had dinner, Susan and Harry were practicing their spells on the washing-up, which seemed to involve a lot of laughter and splashing (Sirius had charmed everything to bounce) and she and Sirius were hiding in the living room.

"So, you think Hogwarts is ready for our boy," she asked, imagining the chaos Harry was going to wreak.

Sirius snorted, "And our baby girl is such a little angel?"

"What's that supposed to mean? Susan is a good, sweet girl." Mostly anyway, maybe seventy percent of the time – if you were being lenient.

"Hah. Susan is sweet and biddable for precisely as long as you're telling her to do what she wants to do anyway. Try and get her to do something she doesn't want to and see how far you get." He grinned with open admiration. "Just like her Aunt."

Amelia realised she and Sirius were wretched role models. They would be well served if Susan and Harry grew up to complete hooligans.

"And you're such a model of decorum yourself, Black."

"Been led astray by the company I keep," said Sirius promptly.

There was a loud, shattering, clatter from the kitchen.

"Hey Uncle Sirius," yelled Susan. "They don't bounce off walls."

Amelia caught Sirius' eye and they both started to laugh.

"Well done on figuring out the limits of the charm you appalling pair of troublemakers," Sirius shouted back, still laughing.

Two shamefaced heads appeared around the edge of the door.

"Sorry Aunty Amelia," said Harry. "We didn't mean throw the plates at the wall, well we did, but we didn't mean for them to break."

"That's all right Harry, it's easily fixed. It was Sirius' fault anyway."

"What! I wasn't even in the room."

"You were the one who told them the things would bounce. Is it their fault they didn't realise you'd charmed the floor instead of the actual items?"

"I didn't expect," he broke off, obviously having decided that 'I didn't expect them to chuck the plates at the wall' was no sort of defence whatsoever. Which it wasn't.

"It's all right Sirius," she commiserated, "I know you're getting on in years, you can't be expected to think of everything."

Sirius opened his mouth, glanced down at the kids watching them interestedly and clearly thought better of whatever he'd been about to say and instead said,

"Right wench, we'll continue that when we've lost our chaperones. Harry are you ready to go home?"

"Do we have to?" whined Harry, while Susan clutched him like Sirius was proposing to separate them for years.

"Yes, you maleficent, mischief-making, menace."

Possibly as a result of calling Harry names in public for years, Sirius was a bit odd in his choice of endearments.

"Your Aunt Amelia wants her house back in one piece. And it's considered polite to leave before your host throws you out."

"Aunty Amelia would never throw us out."

"That's because she's too polite for her own good. Now come along you pestilential child, we need to practice our goodbye scene for the Hogwarts express."

"Oooh," Harry brightened.

"But you'll come round tomorrow, won't you?" begged Susan.

"If it's okay?" Sirius glanced at her and Amelia nodded. "All right then, we'll be round about ten. We need to go over our progress with the Magical Child Protection Act anyway." He pulled up the sash window and whistled. They soon heard the rumbling sound of his motorbike approaching.

"Goodbye Harry." Amelia kissed his forehead.

"Bye Susan, bye Aunty Amelia."

Sirius slid easily out the window onto his bike and helped Harry scramble after him. They both waved as Sirius revved the engine and glided them up into the air.

Susan ran to lean out the window and wave frantically as they flew away.

-


	5. Chapter 5

-

Remus Lupin let the blazing heat of the Moroccan sun pound away the aching soreness from three nights of transformations. His flat roof-top was an island of tranquillity above the city streets thronged with people. The noise and bustle drifted towards him but he remained peacefully above it all.

He couldn't bring the antique scrolls he had come to study out into brightness, instead he was reading a cheap Wizarding romance he picked up at the International floo-station in Tunisia, caught by the title 'A Werewolf's Heart'. Surprisingly the Werewolf in question was only losing his metaphorical heart and the details were almost painfully accurate.

A dark shadow fell over him, obscuring the words on the page. Turning his head he squinted against the sun.

"Remus, it's been a long time."

The book fell away as Remus rose swiftly to his feet, wand in hand.

"Who are –?" he broke off as his sun-blind eyes cleared enough to recognise the eccentrically attired Wizard "Albus! What brings you to Morocco?"

"I was looking for you actually."

"Me?" Remus stared. He'd spent the last ten years in exile, doing his best to forget Wizarding Britain, particularly an ancient stone castle in rain swept Scotland.

"You. You're a hard man to find Remus Lupin."

"Sorry," he stuttered, "I mean, it never occurred to me anyone would want to find me."

He stared in disbelief at Hogwarts Headmaster. Albus looked completely out of place in his heavy purple robe and gaudy orange cloak, as if a ghost from Remus' previous life had appeared fully formed on the sun-bleached rooftop.

His manners kicked in and took over for his stunned brain, "Would you like to come inside out the sun and have a glass of tea."

"Thank you my boy."

Remus led his unexpected visitor down the steps into the dim shade of his rented room. Brightly coloured rungs hung from the walls and in one corner of the room stood an extravagant display of fake nylon flowers that his host had provided for him because – _American, oui_. Remus hadn't seen the need to explain that he wasn't any more American than fake flowers were, he just smiled and thanked the man.

"Nice place you have here," said Albus with the palpable air of making polite conversation.

"Thank you," said Remus politely as he fussed over the tea things, pouring sweet, mint tea into the tiny glass cups. "Please take a seat."

Albus glanced around the room, that was conspicuously absent of all chairs. Remus almost laughed at the mingled pity and distaste on the man's face. He considered pointing out the prominently positioned cushions, but decided Albus' elderly knees might not be up to the challenge.

With a flick of his wand the Headmaster created a bulky armchair and seated himself with a creak of leather. He accepted the glass of tea with a nod of thanks, but immediately set it aside.

"Remus, please be seated. I have something we must discuss."

With Albus in a chair, Remus didn't feel comfortable taking a cushion and sitting at his feet like a dog, so he conjured himself an identical chair, even if he felt slightly ridiculous. Seating himself, he threaded his fingers and waited.

"Harry is eleven," the Headmaster stated.

Remus had a moment's disorientation. How could that cute little toddler be eleven already? But ten thin, lonely years for him meant ten years of growing up for Harry. He must be nearly ready for –

"_Hogwarts_," Remus whispered. Then, more loudly, "Harry goes to Hogwarts this September."

"Indeed he does. And I shall be glad of it, for he has suffered ten dark and difficult years." Albus shook his head sadly.

"What?" demanded Remus, panic stirring in his heart. "What happened to Sirius?"

"Nothing's happened to Sirius," Albus denied blankly.

"He's not dead, is he? Oh God." To his amazement Remus found some part of him still held affection for his childhood friend and was crushed by the thought of his death. Lily, James, Peter and now Sirius, he'd lost all of them. He took a deep, steadying breath, there was only one important thing left in his world,

"Where's Harry?" he growled, furious with himself for just drifting away, for not thinking to check on his best friend's child. "Who did you give him too? Oh God. Sirius can't have left it so he went to Malfoys, surely?"

Dumbledore was still staring at him as if he had suddenly grown a second head. Remus felt the threads of his temper start to fray.

"Where – is – Harry?"

"Remus," said Dumbledore gently, "Harry is with Sirius, as he has always been."

"Then what are you talking about, dark and difficult years?" Remus couldn't imagine anything big enough and tough enough to stop Sirius giving Harry the absolute best of everything.

Leaving Harry in the hands of his parents' betrayer had never sat right with him, but Voldemort was only down, not out, and he'd be coming for Harry sooner rather than later. Harry needed a guardian who could, and would, tell Voldemort to fuck the hell off and make it stick. Which limited the choice to James or Sirius, and James was dead.

"Remus, Sirius has made his distaste for Harry painfully obvious."

"Oh don't be ridiculous, Sirius adores Harry."

It haunted him. The idea that the Death Eaters had bought Sirius with the promise of Harry for his own child.

Peter had thought Sirius' betrayal could be explained by his reversion to pure-blooded values after a rebellious childhood and anger at his best friend's marriage to a 'mudblood'.

Remus didn't agree. Hadn't even really believed Peter until it was too late. Sirius bore no dark mark and wasn't the sort to kiss another's robes. Remus had been criminally, fatally slow to realise his once-friend might co-operate with Voldemort for his own purposes. Sirius could be casually cruel, but a plotted, considered campaign of treachery against James required a greater motivating factor than mere pique.

And Sirius adored his godson.

It made Remus feel sick to think of it but he knew in his bones Sirius had provided Lily with the spell that saved Harry that night. The magic Lily had used to save her son was ancient blood magic. The Marauders' blood magic expert was Sirius.

And Sirius adored his godson.

"... so you see, it is vital Harry finds Hogwarts a source of support."

Remus tuned back into his surroundings as Dumbledore finished speaking. He wasn't quite sure what the Headmaster had said, fairly sure that the man had merely been rabbiting more nonsense about how badly Sirius treated Harry.

"Indeed," he said, as thoughtfully and non-committaly as he could manage.

"With that in mind, I would you offer you the post of Assistant Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor."

Remus stared.

"You want me teaching at Hogwarts?" he checked, certain he had misunderstood.

"Yes. Professor Quirrell has come back from his research trip magically exhausted and much changed. I feel providing him with assistant is the best way forward."

"But I'm a..."

Albus coughed reprovingly as if Remus had been unbelievably gauche to mention such a thing.

"The Wolfsbane potion improves with nearly every moon. You will be no danger. And Professor Quirrell will be there to cover your classes during the day."

"I would have to register and present myself at a detention centre every full moon."

New, highly-restrictive laws had been passed by the Wizengamot these last ten years. Laws that seemed expressly designed to prevent any reoccurrence of the Marauders expeditions with Moony. Laws that started to be passed almost as soon as Sirius emerged from seclusion after his mother's death.

That had hurt Remus more than almost anything else. For Sirius to go after werewolves so blatantly felt like the most vicious of personal attacks against everything Remus was.

After that he had never really got around to returning to Britain.

"It wouldn't be so bad," said Dumbledore.

Remus forced his lips not to twist into a snarl.

"Hogwarts sponsors a small detention centre near Hogsmeade which you would attend. Amelia Bones sneaked in a requirement for each detention centre to have medical staff on call. Deaths in the aftermath of the full moon have actually gone down. Really it is quite civilized."

Remus couldn't seen anything civilized about being tagged as an animal.

"The parents would never stand for it," he said instead.

"We shall not highlight the issue, and should anybody else we shall simply say that as per the provisions of the Werewolf Act when the moon is not full a Werewolf is recognised as a full Wizard with all the protection of the law that entails. Amelia Bones truly returned good for evil with her additions to that act. Sirius Black is not the politician he likes to think he is."

Remus laughed out loud, "I always thought Padfoot was the least likely politician imaginable. The entire Wizengamot must have breathed a sigh of relief when his was disinherited." Then he remembered why Sirius mother took him back into the fold and his amusement faded.

"And if Harry is not enough to persuade you to return, there will be another first year student with a claim on your attention," continued Dumbledore.

"Oh."

"Tegwen Gwilt. Werewolf since she was three."

"Oh God."

Dumbledore didn't say anything more, just sat back and gave every appearance of being willing to wait indefinitely for the decision he wanted.

Remus gave a little hiss of frustration as he felt the trap close in around him. He remembered his own fear and desperate excitement as he set of for Hogwarts for the first time and couldn't help but imagine the small petrified eleven year old girl and how achingly alone she must feel.

And then there was Harry. James and Lily's boy.

He couldn't possibly say no. He couldn't yes either.

Dumbledore nodded his head. "Very good Remus. I'll expect you three days before term starts so we can go over the class schedules."

"As you say Headmaster," Remus agreed helplessly, but Dumbledore had already apparated away.

-


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry everybody, this was really supposed to be the platform scene.

-

Harry bounced impatiently in the hall of Grimmauld Place.

"Come onnnn," he whined.

"I need to look good for my adoring public," his dad yelled back from somewhere upstairs.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Have you put spell-o-tape on your glasses, young man." Somehow his dad always knew when Harry pulled faces at him, even if he couldn't see Harry at the time.

"Ye-es," he whinged. "On the bridge and one of the ear pieces. I made sure it looks really, really obvious." Honestly, his dad treated him like a baby sometimes. Harry was going to _Hogwarts_, he was practically a grown-up.

"And you put on your old trainers?"

Harry glanced down at his feet in their shiny new trainers. "No, I'm wearing the ones Aunty Amelia bought me."

"Well I suppose that's okay." His dad appeared on the landing, and lowered his voice to more normal levels. "Just make sure you tell everyone she bought you them."

"Duh. Susan's going to do it for me. She's going to say Aunty Amelia insisted after seeing my clothes."

"Don't see what's wrong with your clothes, they all come from the very finest suppliers."

They shared a sneaky grin and, doing his best to imitate the pure-blood drawl his dad put on when he was pretending to be Lord Black, Harry continued,

"And really brown's a very practical colour for children to wear, less for them to ruin."

"Very good Harry. But bear in mind that pure-bloods don't generally say 'really', they say 'frankly' or 'actually' depending on context."

"Really?" asked Harry brightly.

His dad gave him a look, brought his fist up to mouth and blew into it. Harry ducked but it didn't help, the puff of air hit him right on the forehead.

"No fair using magic," he whined

"You were expecting fair, you rope-ripe reprobate?"

"No, you miserable old grouch."

"Grouch am I? I guess this means war."

"No, no, no," Harry protested, already laughing in anticipation.

His dad raised his arms dramatically. "Too late, you shall suffer the dreaded, _tickle-fingers_." His dad started to twitch his fingers and Harry could feel their phantom trace skittering along his ribs and started to giggle in earnest.

"Stop, stop," he begged, gasping and laughing as he tried to wriggle away.

"Am I a grouch?"

"Okay, okay, you're not a grouch."

The tickling stopped. Harry collapsed on the bottom stair happily breathless.

"You're a grump," he called up the stairs. "And you _snore_."

He could hear the tread of his godfather's footsteps as he descended the stairs.

"What is this vile calumny? Somebody seems to be asking to be hung upside and shaken." His dad bent over him grabbing him round the waist and hoisting him up in his arms. Harry went with motion, locking his legs around his dad's waist and throwing his arms around his neck.

"That's the very first spell I'm going to learn," said Harry firmly. "I can't believe you won't teach me."

"What was I saying about fair?" his dad kissed the top of his head. "And since that spell's my own invention, you're doomed."

"Hah." Harry didn't care. It just made things easier. If his dad invented tickle-fingers, then Harry could too.

"Are you sure you want to go to Hogwarts?" His dad hugged him harder. "It would be easy enough to hire tutors for you and Susan."

"I'm going to Hogwarts. Me and Susan agreed."

"Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say."

"You and Aunty Amelia went to Hogwarts," Harry offered.

"Yeah, I just... Fine. You got your medallion?"

"Yep." Harry tugged on the chain around his neck and pulled the silver medallion out from underneath his shirt. It fitted neatly into the palm of his hand, one side a large aggressive dog and an angry-looking badger glared out at the viewer, the other side showed a puppy curled around a badger's cub, both fast asleep. His dad, Aunty Amelia and Susan each had one exactly the same. His dad had them made when it was agreed Harry and Susan could go to Hogwarts.

"Now remember, it will only come off if you take it off. And if you do take it off, I will be at Hogwarts within ten minutes wanting to know why. And so will your Aunt."

"I got it," said Harry as patiently as he could, given his dad had already explained, in detail, how the medallions worked at least ten times.

"Good. And you know I –"

"Don't care what House we get sorted into, I know."

His dad was very weird. His dad was always telling Harry he didn't have to do stuff that he actually wanted to do. But when Harry had tried to argue his way out of eating carrots, that was apparently non-negotiable.

Aunty Amelia had explained that his dad's parents were mean to him when he was little and made him do stuff he didn't want to do.

"But he makes me eat carrots," Harry had complained, stung by the injustice.

Aunty Amelia looked at him and said,

"Does he make you eat cauliflower?"

Harry had shaken his head feverently, because cauliflower was icky, far worse than carrots.

"If Sirius treated you like his parents treated him, he'd make you eat cauliflower, and probably serve it every meal just because he knew you didn't like it."

"But that's mean."

"I know."

The memory made Harry clutch his dad harder. He hated how everybody thought they could be mean to his dad. He hated his dad's parents. He hated Headmaster Dumbledore for trying to keep his dad in prison. He hated all his dad's former friends because they said nasty things to his dad and made him go all stiff and hurt. One day Harry was going to be big and grown up and he was going to _make_ everybody be nice to his dad.

His dad sighed. "Let's do this thing. Amelia will never let me forget it if we're late. Is your trunk packed Harry?"

"Uh huh."

"Okay. We won't be able to say goodbye on the platform, nor properly."

"I know, good riddance," said Harry, rolling his r in the very best pure-blooded style.

"Well done, you've got that down."

"Me and Susan have been practicing."

"Any particular reason why? Or don't I want to know?"

"So we can imitate Lord Black. That way we can shock people and make them laugh at the same time."

His dad laughed. "Two for one, Harry you are a true Marauder."

"We're gonna prank Lord Black too, when he shows up. If that's okay?"

"It's more than okay. Lord Black deserves pranking."

"He's still you though. I don't want to prank you," Harry confessed miserably.

"Sure you do. I like turning pink with purple spots, it adds interest to my day. It's Lord Black who minds that sort thing, he thinks it's undignified, but that's cause he's a moron."

"You won't think I'm being mean to you?"

"No. There's an easy way to tell if you're being mean, just think if I did it to you, would you mind or not?"

Harry thought about that. It was true, it would be annoying but kind of cool if Sirius turned him pink with purple spots.

"So it's not mean if I wouldn't mind it?" he checked.

"For us yes, because we tend to think alike. But, and this important because it took me and your father six years too long to figure it out, not everybody is the same."

"Like Susan hates getting her hair wet and neither of us mind it?"

"Exactly."

Harry nodded seriously. He and Susan had been planning pranks all summer but it hadn't occurred to them that the Professors might not mind the pranks. He was glad his dad had pointed that out or they might have wasted all their hard work. They would have to observe the Professors carefully and target their pranks accordingly. His dad thought of _everything_.

"And you'll both give Professor Snape a free pass for the first month or so," his dad reminded him.

"Yes of course," agreed Harry, insulted. He and Susan would never prank Professor Snape. He wasn't sure what the Potion's Master had done, but his dad said he would never be able to repay everything he owed Professor Snape, so it must have been _huge_. Professor Snape was the only person in the Wizarding World that Harry liked apart from his family. He couldn't wait to meet him.

Maybe they could prank the Professor with something he'd enjoy. He had have to talk to Susan.

"Ow," his dad cursed, clutching at his chest, "Merlin Amelia, we're on our way."

"Is Aunty Amelia nagging you?"

"Yes. It's not as if we're even late yet."

Harry glanced at the clock, their hands were definitely pointing at 'Late'. Aunty Amelia's and Susan's were pointing to 'Getting Impatient'. His medallion gave a little jump and started to grow warm against his shirt.

"Now she's nagging me," he prompted his dad.

"Alright, we're going. Trunk packed?"

"Yes."

"Okay, we can go. So I guess..." His dad tailed off and Harry tugged at his shirt in enquiry. "Merlin, you impossible little brat," he growled, hugging Harry tightly. "I'm not going to miss you at all, in fact I'm going to turn your bedroom into a wardrobe for my second-best boots."

"I'm not going to miss you either," said Harry, trying to ignore the sick feeling inside him at the thought of his dad not being there. "I'm going to have three puddings every day and," his voice wobbled and he drew a deep steadying breath, "and eat nothing but ice cream for breakfast."

"Pestilential child," said his dad lovingly. "Don't worry. Christmas will be here in no time. And you can try and beat me at Decorate the Christmas Tree again."

"I won last year." Harry smiled smugly. "You set fire to the carpet _and_ the ceiling." Decorate the Christmas Tree was played by taking it in turns to load as much sparkly stuff and candles onto the Christmas tree as possible, while trying to ensure it was your opponents turn when the whole thing inevitably went up in a big whoosh of flame that was the official beginning to Christmas.

"You've a long way to go to match your Uncle Reg." Uncle Reg was the undefeated champion at Decorate the Christmas Tree."

"I'll know lots more magic this Christmas, I bet I win again."

"We'll see. Your Aunt's still threatening to ban us."

"She can't, it's _tradition_."

"So's getting screeched at for it. My parents' never did work out that confiscating Christmas presents only works as a punishment if you actually wanted them in the first place."

"That's cause they were stupid."

His dad laughed.

Harry comforted himself with the thought of Christmas. It wasn't that far away. He'd soon see his dad again. But all the same he pressed a little closer. "And you'll come visit me at Hogwarts, won't you?"

"Course I will Harry. In fact you can expect a visit once Lord Black knows what House you're in."

Harry nodded, then jumped when his dad flinched violently.

"Youch," his dad yelped, tugging at the chain around his neck. "Sweet Merlin woman, we're coming."

Harry's medallion started getting hotter and hotter too. He was glad his was outside his shirt, he wasn't sure how his dad could stand to have it against his skin. There was an audible click as their clock hands switched to, 'About to be in serious trouble.'

His dad winced, "Your Aunt's going to skin me alive. Harry, I..." he broke off.

In the silence the clock clicked again.

"Right we have to go." His dad pressed a quick kiss to Harry's forehead and then was all business. He drew his wand circled the point through the air and then flicked the charm at Harry's head. "Has the Helmet Charm settled?"

Harry knocked his knuckles against his head. He couldn't feel them but he could feel the soft support of charm.

"Yep."

"Good." He swung Harry up and over his shoulder and grabbed the trunk with his free hand. "Comfortable as you can be?"

"Yep."

"Ready?"

"Yep."

Harry felt the air pop as they apparated away.

-


	7. Chapter 7

-

Ron snuck away from the chaos that was his family – Percy and the twins were arguing _again_ – to join his best friend. Neville stood quietly with his parents and all three of them smiled at Ron as he approached.

"Good morning Ron," said Neville's dad. "Excited about going to Hogwarts?"

"Yessir." Ron couldn't help bouncing just a bit with excitement. Neville grinned at him and bounced a little too.

"We need a photograph," said Neville's mum. "Go stand next to Ron, sweetheart."

"Mu-um," whined Neville.

"Sorry, you'll always be my baby Neville, even if you're old enough for Hogwarts."

Neville pulled a face but he came over to stand next Ron. Ron straightened up proudly, he was thumb's width taller than Neville, and smiled broadly at the camera. Neville's mum took a couple of pictures.

"Lovely. Do you think your Mum would like a copy, Ron?"

"No thank you. That's okay." The wall at the Burrow dedicated to photographs was already overcrowded, if you weren't careful just walking past could knock a picture loose. A new family photo was squeezed in each year but there wasn't any space for one just of him and Neville.

"Alright, we better get you on the train, before your mum starts snivelling."

"Frank Longbottom, I am not going to cry."

"If you say so dear."

"Ignore your father Neville, he thinks he's being clever."

"Yes Mum."

"Now have you got your lunch?"

"Leave the boy alone Alice, we went through this before we left the house."

"But it's such a long journey. They won't get anything else until the Feast."

"I'll be fine Mum," said Neville long-sufferingly.

"I can't help worrying –"

Glass shattered under a concussive crack of magic. Ron could feel the flare of magic ripple across his skin and his ears popped.

Wands jumped into Neville's parents' hands. He yelped as hands grabbed him shoving him up tight against another body. Ron choked a mouthful of robe. Twisting his head free, he took a gulp of air.

Recovering his bearings, he realised he was wedged tightly between Neville and Neville's dad. Neville's mum stood on Neville's other side, wand drawn, her face grim.

"What's going on?" he asked, as he struggled to untangle his arm so he could draw his own wand.

"Mum?" demanded Neville.

"Stay still!" hissed Neville's mum.

Ron froze. He had never thought of Neville's mum as scary. She never shouted like his own mum did, not even when he and Neville rode on tea trays down the grand staircase at Neville's house and broke three vases and a fancy table. Ron had never thought somebody not-shouting could be scary but the look on her face was made him shudder. He ducked his head and huddled closer to Neville.

Alarmed yells echoed up and down the platform, and Ron was fiercely glad to be squished in safe with the Longbottoms.

Then Mr Longbottom suddenly relaxed.

"Aw Merlin's balls," he cursed, "that fucking ostentatious tosser."

"It can't be – ooh the little shit." Neville's mum still sounded mad but her voice was no longer tight and strained. Ron, no longer so forcefully crushed against Neville, could breath easily again.

Neville wriggled his own way free, "Mum, what's going on?"

"Lord Black decided to make an entrance."

Ron had been aware that parents had been backing past their little group, dragging their children with them. Now the crowd in front of them had cleared enough that he could see a Wizard standing there, dressed in a magnificent robe of scarlet and gold, one hand holding a trunk, the other griping the ankle of the small boy he had slung over his shoulder.

Ron's eyes grew big as he realised this must be the notorious Sirius Black.

"He doesn't look that rotten." He looked like one of the Wizards in his Mum's magazines. Ron had always thought Lord Black would be all twisted up and ugly.

"How'd he get here?" Neville tugged at his mum's sleeve. "You said nobody can apparate straight onto the platform."

"They can't Nev. There are wards up to stop people crashing into each other. You have to use the apparation point outside."

"But he apparated right there, didn't he?"

"Yes he did," growled Neville's dad. "Because Sirius Black is a gaudy little show-off, who could never resist the lure of something that can't be done. I swear he and James would have figured out a way to raise the dead solely for the pleasure of doing the impossible."

"RON!"

His mum's screech of his name made all the hair on the back of Ron's neck stand up. His mum rocketed across the space that had opened up in front of them to seize on his arm and collar.

"I didn't do anything," he said immediately. "I wasn't even there."

"Oh Ron."

And then he was being hugged before his mum abruptly let him go to slap at his shoulder.

"What were you doing wandering off?" she demanded.

"Mum, I told you I was going to speak to Neville." It wasn't his fault she never heard him over the twins and Percy. To divert her attention away from his misdeeds, he pointed behind them, "Hey, what's Neville's mum doing?"

Neville's mum was advancing on Lord Black.

"What do you mean by frightening us all half to death, Sirius Black," she jabbed her finger at him.

Lord Black put the trunk he held down, took her hand in his and bowed low over it before pressing a kiss to its back.

"Alice, my darling, you look more beautiful than ever. Frank is a lucky man."

"Oh shut up Sirius, I remember back when the height of your manners was wiping the top of the wine bottle with the back of your hand before passing it on."

"Sadly one takes one tone from one's surroundings," said Lord Black loftily.

"Oh, I didn't know _one_ had become a member of the Royal Family."

"The Blacks are far superior to those half-bred German Squibs."

Neville's mum made an odd coughing sound. "Merlin Sirius, you're awful."

"I know, brilliant isn't it."

Neville's dad strode up, "Black, would you mind unhanding my wife."

"Desperately," said Lord Black promptly. He raised Neville's mum's hand for another kiss. She yanked her hand away,

"Stop trying to out-sleaze Slughorn and tell me why you apparated here with all the grace of a baby elephant using a borrowed wand, scaring us all stupid in the process."

"You could never be stupid Alice Merriweather."

"Will you stop that and be serious for one minute." There's was a second's pause and then she continued quickly, "Don't even think about repeating that old joke, you little bastard. Sirius why? We thought He had returned."

"I'm sorry." Then Lord Black shrugged his shoulders, "But there's nothing wrong with being prepared."

"Really?" demanded Neville's dad, sounding angry again.

"Practically guaranteed I'm afraid."

Neville's dad said something low and vicious.

Lord Black turned back to Neville's mum, "And there were these wards Alice, as if somebody thought they could stop me going where I wanted to."

"Foolish, foolish people."

"Exactly."

"Hey Mister Black," shouted a new voice, and Ron jumped, startled – because that was Fred.

Lord Black turned around. "Did you say something?"

Fred and George had both stepped out of the crowd. Their friend Lee was standing somewhat nervously behind them.

"Yeah," said Fred.

"Why are you wearing red and gold?" George demanded truculently.

"Well it's Hogwarts," beamed Lord Black. "Thought I should wear the old school colours."

"You were a _Gryffindor_?"

Lord Black smiled, "Indeed I was. Beater on the Quidditch team and Captain for the two games James missed."

Ron sniggered at the look of wide-eyed horror on the twins' faces.

"But you can't have been," Fred protested. "You're evil."

There was a collective gasp of shock as the whole platform stared boggle-eyed at the twins. His mum's grip tightened painfully on Ron's shoulder. He wanted to demand she let him go but was too frightened by the strange stillness to say anything at all. Holding his breath, he stared at Lord Black.

Who tipped his head back and roared with laughter.

The platform came alive again with a collective whoosh of relief.

His mum let Ron go and shot across to seize on Fred and George. Ron sighed, the one advantage of having brothers like the twins was that he was never in trouble for long before the twins invariably did something even more outrageous.

"I am so sorry Lord Black," she stammered. "I don't what's come over them." She swatted them both. "Apologise. Right now."

"No, no," said Lord Black. "You should never apologise for telling the truth."

That seemed to make his mum madder and she shook the twins.

"In fact it should be encouraged." There was a definite threat in Lord Black's voice and Ron edged towards his family, nervous but wanting to help. Neville's mum caught him, pulling him aside and crouching down beside him.

"Don't worry sweetheart," she whispered, "he's not going to hurt them."

Ron wasn't sure he believed her. Lord Black still had that boy slung over his shoulder. Maybe Lord Black would steal the twins away and lock them up as his indentured apprentices. As much as Ron occasionally fantasised about the twins disappearing, he didn't want them to actually go.

Lord Black drew his wand, flicked it gracefully through the air and spoke an incantation too quietly for anyone to hear.

Fred and George both yelped and clutched at their mouths as the hex hit.

Mum stopped looking mad at the twins, her wand shot into her hand, and turned her glare on Lord Black,

"What the hell did you do my sons?" she demanded, holding her wand up to Lord Black's chin.

Lord Black didn't look in the least frightened, which Ron figured was stupidly brave because his mum was white-faced, drag you out to the broomshed with a slipper, mad.

"Nothing too bad. Ask them why your older son wasn't watching them."

"I-," Mum's attention flipped back to the twins, "Where is Percy? Why wasn't he watching you?"

Fred grinned, opened his mouth and said, "We bribed Ginny to run off and he had to go after her."

Ron stared in sheer disbelief. That wasn't stupid bravery, that was just plain stupid. He couldn't believe Fred had admitted it so brazenly.

Neither could Fred apparently. He clapped both hands to his mouth, "I didn't mean to say that," he confessed miserably. His eyes widened, "Mum, I can't lie," he wailed.

George, who had been mumbling under his breath, now lifted his head, "Neither can I."

Mum lowered her wand, "A truth-telling curse?"

Lord Black nodded. "It should power down in the next week, month, year or so." Ron was pretty sure Lord Black winked at his mum.

"Mu-um! Make him take it off."

"Oh no Frederick Weasley, you will wait for the curse to run down and you will be deeply grateful for Lord Black's forbearance."

Ron didn't think the twins were feeling much gratitude at the moment. They didn't even tease Mum about getting them the wrong way round.

"Thank you Lord Black," said his mum.

"Oh think nothing of it. One must make allowances for family."

Mum's face went a bit funny as if it couldn't decide on an expression.

"Humph," she mumbled, and hauled the twins away bodily.

Neville's mum gave Ron's shoulders a quick squeeze, "See sweetheart, everything is going to be fine."

Ron sighed with relief, it was all okay and Lord Black wasn't going to turn the twins into human house elves. And the twins were going to have to tell the truth. Ron grinned to himself, it so served them right. The next however long was going to be fun.

Then he gulped a little at the thought of it wearing off. Merlin, maybe he and Neville could emigrate. Fred was going to be out for _blood_.

Neville's mum stood back up,

"Sirius?"

"Yes Alice, my sweet." Lord Black turned the full force of his attention onto Neville's mum. Ron blinked as he caught some of the backlash. He had no idea where the twins had found the balls to cheek Lord Black, he didn't even want to stand too close. Carefully he backed up until he had rejoined Neville.

"Is there a reason you're lugging Harry about like a sack of coal?" continued Neville's mum. Ron realised that the boy must be Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived

"Oh," Lord Black looked surprised, as if he had forgotten he was carrying a boy around. "Amelia told me to bring the brat along before eleven. So here I am. Is Amelia somewhere about the place? I don't have all day."

"I'm here." Madam Bones, Ron recognised her by her monocle from her picture in the Prophet, stepped out of the crowd. She was holding the hand of a girl about Ron's age.

"Ah, there you are. Well, where did you want the brat?"

"On the train, Lord Black, so he can go to Hogwarts."

"You're still insisting he goes to Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

"As you wish." Lord Black casually swung the boy off his shoulder and lobbed him through an open carriage door. Ron winced at the dull thud of impact. Lord Black picked up the trunk and tossed it after the boy.

The girl with Madam Bones gave a little shriek, caught up her robe in one hand and ran for the carriage. Madam Bones drew her wand.

"Done then," said Lord Black, and vanished with a loud bang.

"That man," Madam Bones shook her head as she tucked her wand away. "Is Harry all right Susan?"

"Yes Aunt Amelia," the girl called from the carriage.

Madam Bones glanced up at the station clock. "My goodness, Susan come and collect your trunk immediately before the train leaves without it."

Susan appeared at the carriage door along with the Boy-Who-Lived. Ron looked at him with interest. He had expected the Boy-Who-Lived to be a taller and more heroic-looking. This boy didn't resemble the illustrations in Ginny's story books at all. His clothes were all brown and he had scruffy dark hair and broken glasses. Madam Bones handed up the trunk and he and Susan hauled it onto the train. The door slammed shut and Madam Bones said,

"Goodbye Susan. Goodbye Harry. Have fun at Hogwarts."

Then she disappeared with a clatter like shattering plates.

The platform exploded as everybody tried to talk at once. Neville's mum looked up at the station clock.

"Good grief. Right you two, on the train immediately."

The Longbottoms bundled them hastily onto the train. Around them other parents were doing the same as they realised what the time was.

"Trust a Black and Potter to delay the Hogwarts Express," muttered Neville's dad darkly.

Ron and Neville waved cheerfully at Neville's parents as the Express steamed out of King's Cross, late for the first time in its illustrious history.

-


	8. Chapter 8

-

Hi Everybody, thank you all for your marvelous feedback. Unfortunately, I unexpectedly moved house which left with with no internet connection until the end of November. Fortunately, I am currently on a train to Leeds which miraclously has internet access, so I am going to post the next couple of chapters in a splurt and then try and reply to your emails. Sorry if I don't make it to you before I hit Leeds.

-

"Hermione," said her companion in a very small voice, "I'm not sure like the Wizarding World awful much."

Hermione looked at her new sort-of-friend. Sally-Ann's blue eyes were woebegone and her previously neat blonde French twist drooped lopsided and miserable. They and their parents had nearly been knocked over in the panic at the Dark Wizard popping in.

"It's very different, but I expect we'll adjust." Hermione wasn't going to admit out loud that she didn't much like the Wizarding World at the moment either.

Sally-Ann sniffled.

Hermione straightened her spine.

Her mum had explained to her that Sally-Ann and her parents were nervous about the Wizarding World and it was up to Hermione to look out for her new friend. They had met in Diagon Alley. After the shocking scene with that poor boy, Hermione's mum and dad had spoken to the police-witch Madam Bones and they took down the names of all the Muggle-born students so they could 'compare notes'. Since Sally-Ann only lived an hour away, they made several trips to see her, and once all the Muggle-born students got together for an afternoon in London.

Deputy Headmistress McGonagall had explained they would all probably be in separate Houses and that they would naturally make friends with their Housemates, so they needn't concern themselves with making connections pre-Hogwarts.

Her mum had said that would 'need each other's support to deal with the obvious prejudice.' She hadn't listened when the Professor had tried to explain that a Muggle-born association had never been required before. She said it was 'about darn time.'

Her mum was a bit embarrassing sometimes. She had shouted at all the teachers at Hermione's previous school until they moved Hermione up a year. After that nobody had liked her, not the other pupils and not the teachers. Hermione had been rather hoping to keep her parents at a distance from her new school. Her dad had put his foot down though, so she had to go along with it.

Fortunately the other parents seemed to like her mum bossing them around. Sally-Ann's mum said that after Diagon Alley they'd been thinking of keeping Sally-Ann at home until they'd met Hermione.

Which meant it was Hermione's job to look after Sally-Ann.

Her dad always said that 'sitting around feeling miserable does nobody any good.' Hermione stood up determinedly.

"We should go and see if there is anything we can do to help."

"But his friend, Susan, said he was okay."

"We should still go. The Wizards all seem to think his guardian being horrid to him is normal. We should tell him that Muggles aren't like that. Maybe we could help."

Sally-Ann looked a bit doubtful but she didn't ask for any details on how they might help. Which was just as well because Hermione didn't have any idea, she just knew it was important to try.

The corridor was full of students popping in an out of each other's compartments. Hermione wriggled her way past, several times having to wait for Sally-Ann to catch up with her. She didn't like waiting, facing down the crowd and noise and confidence was okay as long as she kept forging forwards.

In the join between the carriages there was a small cluster of students in plush black leather jackets huddled around three shared cigarettes. They just laughed at Hermione's shocked face. She wondered if the Wizarding World knew about the connection with lung cancer, and opened her mouth to explain the dangers of tobacco, when Sally-Ann caught her up again.

"Good grief Hermy, they're not going to listen to you. Come on." And Sally-Ann dragged her away.

"But," Hermione protested, unsure what she wanted to complain about most, being interrupted, or being called Hermy.

"They don't care. Look, the warning's on the packet if they can ignore that, they can certainly ignore a first year."

"But."

"Hermione, how did not get strung up at your old school? Nobody's going to listen to first year."

Hermione snorted because that was just silly, as if being a first year made her wrong about the dangers of smoking. She didn't complain anymore though, because she didn't want to get into a discussion about her old school.

The corridor of the next carriage was completely blocked, the students treating it as an extension of their compartments. Hermione wondered if she would ever be that casual and confident and surrounded by friends. She drew a deep breath, grabbed Sally-Ann's hand and plunged in.

"Excuse me, excuse me," she muttered, sliding past two older boys and ducking an expansive hand gesture.

"Well what have we here," said one of them, eyes glittering. "Two little mudblood firsties."

"You shouldn't call us that, it isn't nice."

"We're not nice little firstie."

They were wearing green and silver. Hermione remembered they were the colours of Slytherin House, the House that hated Muggle-borns. She glared,

"Only people who feel inferior waste time insulting other people. If your bothering to be mean to us, you must feel very inferior."

Sally-Ann squeaked and clutched her hand tighter. Hermione kept glaring.

"You're not going to let her get away with talking to you like, are you?" demanded the second boy.

"Ah come on Higgs, she has a point. We could crush her like a bug, where's the fun in that."

"She shouldn't be disrespectful. Maybe Lord Black had the right idea." He ran one hand along his wand.

Hermione gulped a bit but she lifted her chin. She was not going to let them intimidate her, she was _not_.

"What is going on here?" demanded a new voice.

Turning her head, Hermione saw a tall, skinny red-headed boy approaching. To her relief his colours were red and gold, Gryffindor, the good house. Although maybe not if Lord Black had been a Gryffindor.

"Oh Merlin Weasley, they made you a prefect," said the first boy.

"They did." The red-headed boy looked smug. "I'm checking the train. Is there a problem here?"

"No," said Sally-Ann, before Hermione had a chance to say yes. "We were just walking up the corridor."

"Right," he said, not sounding convinced. "Well I shall accompany you. Excuse us please, Baddock, Higgs." He nodded to the Slytherins and put a hand on Hermione and Sally-Ann's shoulders to urge them forwards.

Catching more than one scathing glance, Hermione was deeply grateful for the escort and deeply furious for its necessity. She read about prejudice, of course, they did 'To Kill a Mockingbird' in English last year, but she'd never really thought of it as applied herself before.

She didn't like it much. She wasn't sure she could explain _why_ it was different to being the most unpopular girl at her previous school. She just knew it _was_.

"How did they know we're Muggle-born?" she asked, once they'd left the carriage and stood in the noisy, jolting join between that and the next carriage.

"Only a Muggle-born would try to push through the Slytherin carriage," said the Prefect.

"We were polite."

"Slytherins don't like anybody who isn't one of them. You should be careful to stay away from them."

"But that's not fair."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I've given my little brother the same advice, not that he'll listen to me. The Slytherins think all us Weasleys are blood traitors."

She caught his name that time, "Oh, they were your brothers on the platform."

Two bright spots of colour glowed on his cheeks, "Yeah, Fred and George struck again. I'll leave you here. Don't go back through the Slytherin carriage."

"But our bags are the other side," said Sally-Ann.

"Okay then. If you can't spot another prefect, I'll be by to pick you up later."

"Thank you," said Sally-Ann and kicked Hermione's ankle.

Hermione wanted to say that the prefects were supposed to help people, but she knew that was being deliberately ungracious.

"Thank you," she said.

"Glad to be of service, and stay away from the Slytherins," he smiled formally at them and hurried on his way.

Sally-Ann glanced back rather longingly. Hermione thought about retreating to their safe little compartment and huddling up with their trunks, or even just staying tucked away here in the connection between the carriages.

"No," she said. "They are not going to frighten us off."

Sally-Ann sighed, "If we can't go back, we might as well go on."

They actually spotted the short, scruffy-haired boy in the next compartment but one. He was sitting with his friend and they were playing cards, using one their trunks as a table.

Hermione knocked on the glass and pulled the door open.

"Uh, hi," she said. Then she stopped, because he was obviously all right so it seemed a bit of stupid question.

"Hello," said the girl, "I'm Susan and this is Harry."

"Hi," said Sally-Ann, "This is Hermione and I'm Sally-Ann. We saw that dreadful scene on the platform and we just wanted to see if you were all right."

"We're fine thank you," said Susan.

"Are you sure?" asked Hermione. "Shouldn't Harry be checked out by a Wizard Doctor? Even minor bump to the head can cause internal bleeding."

Susan's smile grew a bit warmer and she turned to face them. "Harry honestly is fine. Wizarding children bounce really well, we're a bit like cartoons that way."

"But,"

"Accidental magic keeps us pretty safe. It starts wearing off in our teens though." She reached out and put her hand over Harry's, as if she didn't much like the idea.

"But it's still wrong. My parents said your aunt was a police witch, why didn't she arrest him?"

"Golly, you're a real Muggle-born," Susan laughed, but not unkindly. "My Aunt is an Auror. And she couldn't arrest Sirius because there are no laws against the mistreatment of children in the Wizarding World."

"That can't be true."

Harry coughed in the back of his throat and nudged his friend.

"Oh, you're right Harry, there are property protection laws that allow guardians to complain and obtain redress if their children are injured by others."

"What does 'obtain redress' mean?" asked Sally-Ann. Hermione stayed quiet because while she could guess from context, she wasn't sure.

"Sorry, was I lawyer-speaking again."

Harry nodded emphatically in agreement and she pulled a face at him,

"It means that the offender has to pay them compensation, sometimes they might get sent to prison."

Hermione smiled, that was what she thought, and now she had a question of her own, "Property protection laws?"

"Sure. Children are their parents' property and support for the future. If that's damaged then the parents can demand compensation. It's all standardised. You get less for squibs of course."

"I..." Hermione broke off, unable to find an appropriate response to such appalling statement. "Squibs are non-magical people, right?" she checked, because she had to be misunderstanding _something_.

"That's right. A Squib is worth one-sixteenth of a proven-magical child. If the Squib is the only heir though, then they are worth one-eighth of a proven-magical child. The difficulty comes when the child is too young to be sure if they are Squib or magical... Ow Harry."

The boy glowered at her.

"Just because you find Magical Laws boring, doesn't mean everybody does. Hermione asked me, she wanted to know."

"No I didn't."

Susan glared, flicked her plait over her shoulder and folded her arms. She appeared to be trying to look straight through them.

"Sorry," said Hermione quickly. "I didn't mean it like that. I did ask and I wanted to know. I just didn't want to _know_, if you see what I mean."

Susan's expression softened. "Muggle-borns are worth one-quarter of a proven-magical pure-blooded child," she offered, as if that was supposed to make things better.

"But surely," said Sally-Ann, looking as sick as Hermione felt, "Harry is a proven-magical child. Doesn't that make him valuable? According to your system?"

"It's not _my_ system. But yes, if Harry's guardian complained about his ill-treatment, things would be examined very seriously. Unfortunately there isn't any provision for a guardian ill-treating his ward. The ward's his property, you see."

"I have never heard anything so," Hermione flailed for a suitable word with both hands, "so _hideous_."

"It's difficult because there's a lot of resistance, but my aunt is trying to get the law changed."

"Good." Hermione grinned viciously and started planning exactly what she was going to write to her parents. Her mum was going to go spare.

"Um sorry," said Sally-Ann, "are you sure Harry's alright? I only wondered cause he hasn't said anything yet."

Hermione blinked because, now she thought about it, the messy dark-haired boy she remembered from Diagon Alley hadn't had such an aura of silence about him.

"He's fine. He just can't speak at the moment. Sirius hexed his mouth shut before they left," Susan explained, as if it made all the sense in the world.

Hermione's thoughts derailed with a crunch, "Wait, what? That can't be allowed."

Harry turned to face them for the first time and Hermione couldn't help flinching at the sight. Harry had no lips, just blank, pale skin where his mouth should be.

"Can't you fix it?" Sally-Ann's voice wavered.

"No, I don't know how. I'm hoping the Professors will when we get to Hogwarts."

"Oh no way." Finally presented with something she could actually do, Hermione was determined to help. "One of older students must know how to help. Come on Sally-Ann, let's go and find a Prefect. You stay here with Harry, Susan, we'll be right back."

With absence of his mouth she couldn't be sure, but she thought Harry might be smiling.

-


	9. Chapter 9

-

Harry grinned at his best friend, "Stop moaning Sue."

He wriggled excitedly in his seat, he couldn't wait until this interminable train ride was over and they finally got to Hogwarts. He and Susan had been planning this since they'd been old enough to understand what Hogwarts meant. And finally, finally they were almost there.

Already things weren't going the way they intended, but that was okay, his dad said no plan survived first contact with the enemy. Susan wasn't happy about it though.

"Humph," she stewed.

Harry sniggered.

"I don't see why she had to be so officious," she sulked, as she had been every since the party broke up as they drew close to Hogwarts and he and Susan were finally left alone.

"Aw come on Sue, it is funny. And pretty impressive when you think about it."

The girl, Hermione, had bustled away with her friend in tow and returned less than ten minutes later with another Muggle-born first year, a small gang of Hufflepuffs and a Weasley.

"Harry, I found Justin, he's a Muggle-born like me. He was sitting with Cedric," she pointed out a blond boy who waved, "Cedric says Percy's the best for removing hexes, so we found Percy again, and here we are."

"I might not be able to do anything mind," said the Weasley. "But I've had a lot of practice un-jinxing things."

"He never makes things worse," said Cedric. "And he doesn't charge like the Slytherins would."

"Of course I don't. It would be pretty rotten to charge for helping out." He drew his wand. "May I try?"

Harry, no matter what Susan said, had no choice but to nod. Since the hex had been cast by Susan, and not by his dad (who had flatly refused to send Harry off with a curse Susan couldn't undo, in case of accidents) it had come undone at Percy's second attempt.

"All right," cheered Cedric. "Percy's down it again."

Percy blushed roughly the same colour as his hair. "It wasn't that difficult actually. It can't have been his best work, or it was already running down."

Everybody's attention snapped to Harry at that idea. He put on his best mournful face.

"I-I," he snivelled, breaking off to cough pathetically.

Susan handed him a flask of water, "It's okay Harry, you don't have to talk. Would you like a sandwich?"

Harry grabbed the sandwich and took a huge bite so his mouth was occupied with chewing. They had all agreed the rumour mill was best left to feed itself. The fewer concrete facts, the less effort that had to be put into sustaining the illusion.

"Thank you," Susan said to Percy for him.

"It was nothing. Have to keep in training for reversing the twins' efforts."

Then everybody seemed to settle in for the duration. Percy left briefly, alerted by a monitoring charm, to retrieve his brother and his brother's best friend from the Slytherin carriage, but Ron and Neville just joined the party.

It was hilarious the way they all talked around the crumple-horned snorkack in the room. They discussed Quidditch, the new DADA Professor, summer holidays, forgotten homework, and the latest song by the Wyrd Sisters.

But nobody actually came out and mentioned Harry's circumstances, not the Boy-Who-Lived thing, or about his dad. Ron Weasley did try but his older brother promptly shut him up and was glowered at for his pains.

Draco stuck his head around the door about half way through the train ride.

"Hey Malfoy," said Harry. "Enjoying the trip?"

"Given the company you're keeping, more than you must be, Black."

"I thought Harry was called Harry Potter," Hermione's whispered demand was clearly audible in the sudden silence.

Harry thought he'd better explain that one quickly,

"Sirius made me his heir to stop Malfoy's dad bumping him off so Malfoy could inherit the Black Fortune." That was the official story they had sold the Wizarding World. One day Harry was going to be able to boast that Sirius wanted him to be his heir because he was the best little boy in the whole Wizarding World.

"Now cousin," Draco grinned sharply, "as if my father would ever be so gauche as to 'bump' somebody off."

"My apologises Draco for ever implying your father could do something so inelegant."

Harry didn't like Draco's father. Lucius Malfoy always said cutting things about Susan when Harry's dad was out of earshot. Harry had complained loudly but his dad explained that Lucius was supposed to be his ally, and as long as Lucius thought Susan was unimportant, he wouldn't try and hurt her.

Draco was all right though. His father made him attend the same stupid parties Sirius said Harry had to come with him to. He and Draco hid behind the curtains and played Gobstones together, which his dad said was a fine and noble tradition.

Draco agreed with Harry that Celestia Warbeck was thoroughly annoying – Susan's only imperfection was her adoration of the whiny singer. He liked Quidditch, flying and experimenting with potions ingredients. He didn't like Muggles or Muggle-borns, so Harry always had to be on his guard when he spoke to him, which he found surprisingly frustrating. Draco was sharp and pointy all over, like a really vicious hedgehog. He could say the nastiest things while sounding utterly angelic and made Harry laugh even when he knew he shouldn't.

All in all Harry kinda of liked hedgehogs. They weren't as good as badgers though.

"Here, skinny ribs." Draco lobbed a block of chocolate at Harry's head, Harry snatched it out the air before it clonked him on the forehead. "Don't want you fainting before we get to the Feast."

"I passed out," Harry hissed through gritted teeth. He was never going to forgive his dad for deciding a dramatic swan dive was needed at the Midsummer Sunset Celebration last year.

"Whatever you say Black."

"Oh sod off Malfoy."

Draco laughed, bowed low, and disappeared out the door.

Harry opened the chocolate and offered some to Susan.

"Hey," said the younger Weasley. "What are you doing taking chocolate off Malfoy. It's probably poisoned."

"Draco would never give anybody poisoned food," said Harry scornfully. Draco was far too sneaky for that.

"Really Ronald," said his brother, "could you refrain from maligning the Slytherins until we at least reach Hogwarts."

"Huh. Fred and George say..."

"Fred and George say a great many things, and are rarely the most reliable source."

"At least they're not –" whatever Ron was about to say was cut off when his friend Neville jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow.

"Remember that spell they told you," said Neville.

"Well true, that didn't work..."

"And they tried to convince you have to wrestle a troll to be sorted."

Ron went pale under his red hair and Harry could see Ron believed his twin brothers, at least a little bit. Which was just ridiculous, his dad would never let Harry anywhere near a troll, not without teaching him the spells that would take it down first.

"Oh Ron really, you can't have believed them," said the older Weasley. "As if Fred and George themselves could wrestle a troll, let alone a first year."

Ron's face regained its colour with a self-conscious flush. "Course I didn't believe 'em."

"Good. They better not try frightening Ginny like that or Bill and Charlie will hex them stupid."

"How do we get sorted?" demanded Hermione. "I've learned all my course books and memorised all the spells I could, but of course I couldn't really practice them. I do hope that's enough."

The whole carriage blinked a little at her keenness.

"Hermy," hissed her friend, "you're doing it again."

"What?" She looked honestly confused. "I know being Muggle-born we need to work extra hard to catch up. Look at the laws Susan knew about. I didn't even think to research Wizarding Law."

"Why would you need to know about Wizarding Law?" asked Ron.

"I would have thought that would be obvious. You need to know what the rules are so you can follow them."

Ron looked ready to argue back, so Harry asked quickly,

"How _do_ we get sorted?" Because he honestly wanted to know and his dad had refused to tell him because of some stupid tradition. "Sirius told me sometimes you don't get sorted anywhere and you have to go back home."

It had actually been Aunty Amelia who had come up with that as a plausible threat for Lord Black to hold over his ward.

Aunty Amelia was dead scary. Once, after his dad had spent three weeks trying to get him to tidy his room and Harry kept on ignoring him, Aunty Amelia had come to their house armed with a huge rubbish bag and magic'd everything strewn across Harry's floor into the bag. Harry only had until the dustmen came the next day to retrieve anything he wanted to keep. After that Aunty Amelia only had to tut at the state of his room and Harry would leap to tidy it up.

Even his dad was scared of Aunty Amelia and his dad wasn't scared of nobody. When Aunty Amelia suggested telling the other first years that sometimes people were sent home unsorted, his dad had shuddered and said, "Melia, you are an evil, evil woman, if we weren't on the same side I'd be terrified."

Aunty Amelia had just grinned.

"Okay, I confess," Harry's dad had said, "I'm terrified anyway."

And Aunty Amelia had been right, Hermione, Ron and the other first years all looked positively ill. Harry glanced at Susan and saw she was valiantly trying not to laugh too.

It got even funnier then, because although the older years tried to reassure them, they couldn't positively say that nobody had ever been sent home unsorted before. Eventually Percy Weasley and Hermione each pulled out the enormously heavy Hogwarts: A History and started looking for examples. Cedric bought them all sweets from the trolley to cheer them up.

Finally though Percy's prefect badge chimed and he looked up from the fourteenth century.

"Right, we're nearly at Hogwarts. I'll escort Hermione and Sally-Ann back to their carriage. Ron, Neville, you better come with me too."

"But Percy..."

"No Ron."

"But Mum said..."

"I very much doubt Mum said to torment him with questions before we even reached Hogwarts."

Harry knew they had to be talking about him and wanted to stamp his feet with frustration. He and Susan had thought up all sorts of stories to tell but they weren't going to be any good if nobody gave them a chance to tell them.

Susan kicked his foot and gave him a look. Harry sighed, he knew they'd be lots of time but he wanted to get started now, now, now.

Harry'd been patient for years and years while he and Sue worked on their Plan. Now they finally had a chance to put it into action, he wanted to do everything at once.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, like he'd see his dad do when something annoyed him and he couldn't afford to show it. They had to take everything slow and steady. Harry needed to be careful. He was not going to let his family down by being in too much of a rush. He could be patient a little longer and their Plan would trimuph.

After Percy succeeded in dragging the four first years off, the rest politely excused themselves saying they needed to get changed for Hogwarts, and they were left alone.

And Susan was able to admit how cross she was that Hermione had ruined their first plot.

"It's alright Sue," Harry soothed, "They're bound to tell everyone about it, so it isn't like we wasted the effort. We just need to come up with something else too."

"Like what."

"Um," said Harry.

-


	10. Chapter 10

-

Susan got cold feet when they saw the boats and insisted they put their idea off until they reached the other side. Harry whined, of course, but she stared him down.

"It's all very well for you, but if you fall in the lake and drown, I'm the one that has to tell Mum and Uncle Sirius. And frankly I think I'd rather drown myself too."

Harry pouted and she ignored him, stepping into a boat with Hermione, Sally-Ann and a girl she didn't recognise. Harry looked around for another boat – they had quickly agreed it would be better for their idea if they weren't in the same boat.

"Hey skinny ribs," yelled Malfoy, "Come with me. You can counteract Crabbe and Goyle and stop them sinking us."

Harry scowled but went over to join him. Susan ducked her head to hide her smile. Harry hated having attention to drawn to his scrawny size, even when it was Uncle Sirius, who used to say,

"I don't know how it happened but it is jolly handy. Anyone would think I _had_ been starving you. Mind you James was a skinny snip of a thing. Until he hit his growth spurt at thirteen, then he look positively skeletal. I think all the Potter energy must go into the hair."

Harry hated his hair too. Susan knew he wanted long, sleek hair like Uncle Sirius but now of the cosmetic charms they'd tried worked. Still, she looked up at the castle looming in the distance, they were at Hogwarts now, they'd find something in the library she was sure. There was so much they could do no they had reached Hogwarts. Most importantly they could finally put The Plan into action.

Her boat reached the other bank before Harry's and, as the other girls muddled around in confusion, Susan drew her wand and waited.

Harry's boat bobbed neatly up against the shore and Harry was the first to bounce nimbly onto the muddy grass. As soon as both feet had hit the ground, Susan let fly.

Harry collapsed to his knees with an agonised shriek.

Malfoy scrambled quickly after him,

"What's wrong?"

Susan had reholstered her wand while everyone's attention was on Harry. Now she too screamed and started to push her way through the stunned students.

Moaning, Harry had huddled down into a small ball. Malfoy was grabbing at his cloak.

"What are you fussing about, skinny ribs? Come on now. Where are you hurt? Black? Harry?"

Susan reached them and fell to her knees beside them, "Harry, Harry it's Sue, talk to me." She tugged at Harry until uncurled onto her lap.

"I can't see," he moaned.

Malfoy yelped with pure horror, and Susan knew he had just caught a good look at Harry's face.

"Great Merlin," swore Malfoy, instinctively pulling away before coming back to cautiously press his fingers to Harry's face. "Where are your eyes, Black."

"I can't see," Harry whimpered and Susan subtly adjusted the position of his head so their gathering audience could all see the smooth skin where his eyes should be.

Amid the incoherent yells and shrieks, Susan was sure she heard Hermione Granger saying,

"That's the same spell, it must be. We can fix that."

Susan ground her teeth. With Hermione around they were really going to have to up their game or they were going to be caught out. If they were caught out before The Plan came off, Susan would lose her whole family.

Suddenly the tears rolling down her cheeks were real and she held on to Harry even tighter.

Malfoy patted gingerly at her shoulder and Harry's leg.

"It's okay," he said, "I'm sure the Professors will have everything fixed in no time. Professor Snape is a genius you know."

"Thank you for that ecominium, Mr Malfoy," said a low silky voice. "Perhaps I may see what is causing all this unnecessary pandemonium."

"Professor Snape," gasped Malfoy. "Can you fix Harry?"

Professor Snape bent low to inspect them. "Probably Mr Malfoy, but I shall not. Lupin! As this is no doubt your compatriot's handiwork, perhaps you would care to do the honours."

Another Professor appeared, tall and slim with ragged robes. He too looked them over.

"It's okay Harry," he said, "We can fix this easily enough I'm sure."

Susan winced. She did wish people would stop saying how easy it was to break her jinxes. Tomorrow, she would start practicing daily. She would _not_ be the weak link that let her family down.

The tall Professor swished his wand in a smooth circle of eight. Harry squeaked and clapped his hands over eyes.

"Harry?" asked Susan anxiously. She carefully eased his hands away from his face and was relieved to see his green eyes were uncovered again.

"Can you see?" Malfoy demanded eagerly.

"Yes, yes I can."

"If we have quite finished with the melodrama portion of the evening," said Professor Snape, "Perhaps we can move on to the farce."

"As you say Severus," said the other Professor. He raised his voice, "Let us all continue on to the Sorting Ceremony."

Malfoy helped her assist Harry to his feet and together they walked into the castle.

Almost before Susan was ready for it Professor McGonagall was reading out 'Black, Harry' with a funny expression on her face, like the words tasted nasty.

Susan snorted. She didn't mind if Professor McGonagall didn't like them, she didn't like Professor McGonagall. Harry was glaring at the Deputy Headmistress too because he didn't like Professor McGonagall either. Susan gave his arm a comforting squeeze. Harry smiled at her, then took a deep breath and walked steadily up to the Sorting Hat.

Susan held her breath.

-

Amelia glared as Sirius paced restlessly about the room.

"Sirius Black if you do not sit down right this minute…"

"But -"

"Sit down."

Sirius' body twisted and shrank down into a large black dog. The dog whined and ran over to Amelia to curl up at her feet.

"Stupid," said Amelia, leaning over to scratch behind its ears. "I didn't realise you were so worried. They'll be fine. As you kept telling them, it really doesn't matter what house they're in."

The dog whimpered.

"No, they won't have an easy time of it if they end up in Slytherin but they'll be together. And if the worst comes to the worst, it would be completely in character for Lord Black to withdraw Harry from school for no better reason than the wind changed. We'll work it out Sirius. Aren't you the one who's always say adaptability is the key to any plan."

The dog wriggled a little, stood up and then jumped on the sofa.

"No dog hairs on the furniture."

He ignored her, flopping down to rest his head on her lap and look up at her with big grey eyes. Amelia avoided his gaze by looking across at the opposite wall. Yes she was worried too, but a gentleman wouldn't point that out.

"It will be okay," she repeated. She rested her hand on his big shaggy head and they waited there in the dark together.

-


	11. Chapter 11

-

Severus Snape strode swiftly through the corridors of Hogwarts. This year looked to be his worst at Hogwarts, which, given the competition, took some doing.

The Potter brat was inevitable, and after having him hanging over his head for ten years, it was almost a relief to have the menace at Hogwarts at last. Of course the brat was already causing consternation. There was that histrionic scene at the lake, which could only have come from the mind of Sirius Black. Then the debacle of the sorting, which had Albus calling an emergency teacher's meeting barely three hours into term.

It was the other debacle at the Sorting that had called Severus away from the meeting. He had told Albus that no good would come from werewolves at Hogwarts.

Lupin had been a foregone conclusion, Albus was determined to do something for the Potter brat – though why he thought the brat would appreciate a werewolf Severus had no idea.

Then Albus had decided to put a cap on Severus' year by allowing a first year werewolf to join the school.

Severus had fought that tooth and nail. Setting aside his own view on werewolves, how could Albus risk a repeat of the disaster that was Severus' sixth year. Even _Black_ seemed to have gained some sense since then. But no, Albus had been sure it would all be totally fine.

Severus'd had some support originally, more than he expected. It seemed it was not just him left with scars from his sixth year.

Of course none of them stood up to Albus for long. All that magical power concentrated in one form made it hard to hold an opinion if Albus wished to persuade you different. Sometimes Severus was only aware he had held a different opinion after he had returned to the cool sanctuary of his Potions laboratory. He thought that it was his Occulmency skill protecting him to an extent.

He had never asked, because even his Occulmency skills wouldn't stand up to the full force of Albus Dumbledore's magic, should he choose to exert it. Severus preferred to know what he was up against instead of tootling along in happy ignorance like the rest of the dunderheads. He just saw no reason to bring his knowledge to Albus' attention. He didn't think Albus was aware he was doing it, but on the other hand, surely the old man couldn't believe he was always right?

Severus' sheer horror at the idea of another werewolf pupil had allowed him to fight longer and harder than he ever had before. Not even all Albus' vaunted power could persuade him it was a good idea. In fact Albus had started looking quite puzzled over his resistance.

Severus had given way rapidly then. He was sure Albus methods of 'convincing' the recalcitrant were less painful than the Dark Lord's, but he was full certain they were just as effective. You didn't defeat one dark lord and hold another at bay by being completely benign.

He preferred his mind to be wholly his own, even if his life was pledged to two masters.

So he had reassured himself that the werewolf would go to Gryffindor and become McGonagall and Lupin's problem. Then, to his shock, the hat on Miss Gwilt's dark head had called out 'Slytherin'. He had glared along the table, suspecting a plot, but Albus and Minerva had looked just as surprised as he felt. Then there had been nothing to do but grit his teeth and bear it.

All his reservations had been confirmed when he was summoned by his prefects in a state of high panic. He had had the satisfaction of seeing Albus actually look troubled for a second, before he slid back to twinkling and "I'm sure you will be able to deal with it, my boy."

That was no real comfort as he approached the Slytherin portrait to deal with his hysterical house and a distraught young werewolf, so he fortified himself with the thought of the I told you sos he could slip in to casual conversation. Would tomorrow at breakfast be too early?

The wash of sound that blasted his ears as he entered the common room convinced him to squeeze in his first I told you so before bedtime.

"What is the meaning of this outrageous behaviour?" he roared and had the pleasure of seeing his House fall silent before him.

All his prefects ran up to him, and a few of the other older years too. He looked about for Miss Gwilt, suddenly anxious that his House, worked up on its own self-righteousness, might have done her some harm.

He spotted her, and was hard pushed not to smile. She was a pretty thing, Celtic dark with blue eyes and she sat on one of the tables with the poised, straight-backed, confidence of a little queen.

Malfoy stood at her side, all blond arrogance, and to Severus' surprise it appeared his intentions were defensive. He had not previously suspected the Malfoy heir to be guilty of knight-errantry.

Glaring down his prefects attempts to all tell him their tale at once, he turned to Flint.

"Mr Flint, perhaps you have some explanation for the collective fit that seems to have overtaken my House."

Flint cringed a little. "Please Professor Snape, Gwilt said she was werewolf."

Severus' jaw dropped, "Miss Gwilt admitted it?" Then he realised his mistake.

"You mean she is?" gasped Flint as the uproar returned.

"Silence! I said silence! Continue Mr Flint."

"Uh well." Flint, to Severus' amusement appeared to be sidling round so his back was no longer to Miss Gwilt. In fact several of the students were edging away from her. "You see Professor, some of us didn't believe her. We thought she was trying to make herself sound interesting. Some of the little ones did think it was true. Then Higgs said he didn't care either way, if she was going to claim to be a werewolf we should treat her like one. And then Malfoy," Flint was obviously surprised at a firstie thrusting himself into his elder's conversation, "said that werewolves weren't dangerous unless it was the full moon and we were all acting like a bunch of scared Hufflepuffs."

Severus took a cynical moment to wonder if an unprepossessing boy would have attracted the same assistance from Malfoy as a pretty girl and then said,

"Mr Malfoy is absolutely correct."

"I told them that too," said Miss Gwilt in a clear, unshaken voice, "I'm quite surprised that point isn't covered in the Hogwarts curriculum."

Severus bit back the desire to expostulate over the state of the DADA curriculum. If they could keep a teacher for longer than a year it would help significantly.

"Miss Gwilt, did Professor Dumbledore not instruct you to keep your condition secret."

"That would be behaving as if I had something to be ashamed of, which I do not."

The roar of comment came back as each Slytherin tried to say exactly what they thought of that. Miss Gwilt continued to sit calmly, hands folded neatly in her lap as if she was above it all.

Severus closed his eyes briefly. He foresaw a long evening ahead of him.

-

The smaller sitting room was jam full of extravagantly delicate hothouse flowers.

Frank Longbottom stared. He wondered if there was any point checking the prominently displayed cards to see who had sent them.

"Alice darling," he called through the house, "It's only polite that you inform your husband before running off with the Darkest Wizard since Riddle."

He heard Alice laughing as he came down the stairs.

"I know, isn't he ridiculous? He probably did it just for the pleasure of causing consternation at the florists. There's also an horrendously large box of comfits in the fridge. I had to use magic to wedge them in there."

"Your being awfully calm about this Alice."

"Oh, now that I've actually spoken to him, I utterly refuse to believe Sirius is guilty of anything except being the total moron we all knew he was to begin with."

"Alice."

"No, do not Alice me. I am completely convinced."

"His mother bought him out of Azkaban."

"Where he was sentenced without trial. Good Merlin Frank, even the Muggles have habeas corpus. The fact that Walburga Black had to buy Sirius a trial is a stain on the Wizarding World, not upon Sirius."

"Everyone knew he was the secret-keeper."

"Which is very nearly proof he wasn't. Did any of that lot ever do what was expected."

"He could have broken Veritaserum."

"He very probably could, doesn't mean he did though. He stood on that stand, dosed to the gills with Veritaserum and told everybody Peter Pettigrew was the secret-keeper, and we were stupid enough to think he was lying. That plan sounds exactly like something Lily and James would do, far more likely than the obvious."

"So where is Pettigrew? They say Black killed him so he could blame his crimes on a dead man."

"Pft. Pettigrew is wherever he thinks Sirius Black is least likely to find him. He was damn lucky Sirius was all tangled up with Harry that night, or Sirius would have eviscerated him back then."

"Sirius treats Harry appallingly."

"No," Alice shook her head. To Frank's joy she appeared quite, quite certain. "Harry's too easy in his presence. This morning he was perfectly relaxed flopped over Sirius' shoulder. Don't forget this is Sirius Black and James Potter's son. They probably think it's funny."

"Alice."

"No. I don't even know why you're trying to convince me otherwise. You never have believed it. I do not know what Dumbledore was thinking of, and so I shall tell him."

"No Alice, you won't."

"But Frank."

"No Alice, you won't go to Dumbledore, I won't let you."

Alice stiffened up all over. "I do not see how you can stop me." Suddenly her face changed and her raised one hand to her mouth. "Frank? Frank have we had this conversation before?"

"Yes darling."

"I went to Dumbledore then, didn't I?"

"Yes darling."

"And he?"

"He persuaded you otherwise. There was no spell involved Alice I checked. I went to see Dumbledore and he betrayed no consciousness that anything was wrong. I wouldn't have thought anything was wrong myself, except that you had forgotten every conversation we'd had about Sirius and that night."

"Not, not forgot," she pressed both hands to her temples, "I remember them now, though I didn't then. I don't… Frank what happened?"

"I don't know but I suspect – Do you remember facing Riddle, and how hard it was to remember why we should hate him."

"Of course I do."

Frank risked reaching out and squeezing Alice's arm. Because of course she did. They both did.

"Part of that was purposeful on Riddle's part, I'm sure. But part of it was reaction to his magical power. I've researched it a bit. Nobody tends to argue with a powerful wizard, dark or light."

"Are you saying we can't disagree with Dumbledore?"

"Not _can't_. But I think you need to be very sure of your ground and very determined. I've never had a problem to keep on believing Sirius was innocent, but I never discussed it with Dumbledore, never had him try to persuade me he was right."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Alice I couldn't. You don't remember now, but you were so confused. Dumbledore was telling you one thing, and your senses another and you couldn't decide which to trust. I tried to help but it did no good. I was so relieved when you picked one over the other, I didn't much care that I was sure you were wrong."

Alice's eyes were hollow. Like they were those awful nights when he'd thought her mind might break under the strain of reconciling the impossible. He hoped desperately that her mind had had the time to grow strong enough to reject the comfort of Dumbledore's reassurances.

"I remember now. Or some of it, anyway. I wanted Dumbledore to be right, even if it meant Sirius was guilty and Harry was so unhappy, because if Dumbledore is wrong…"

Alice suddenly looked very, very scared. Frank knew how she felt because he'd been haunted by that fear for years.

"What are we going to do Frank? If we can't rely on Dumbledore, what are we going to do? Sirius said Riddle is coming back. Neville, what if Neville is the prophecy child?"

"We'll be okay. Even if Neville is the prophecy child, I doubt Riddle thinks he is."

Alice heaved a great sigh of relief and pressed close to him. "Oh Frank, it's very bad of me, but I'm so glad it's Harry and not Neville."

"I know darling. Me too." Frank felt horribly guilty about it, but he couldn't help hoping Neville and Harry ended up in different Houses. "And Sirius seems prepared for Riddle to come back. I'm sure he has a plan in place. Even without Lily and James, Sirius was always formidable."

"We have to help him."

Frank cringed. Hadn't they given enough? They'd fought in the first war, personally faced Riddle down three times and all they achieved was a place for their son in the firing line. Frank himself had nearly died, and Alice almost collapsed from her own guilt and confusion.

Harry was the prophecy child, couldn't he carry his own weight?

Frank bit it all back down as unworthy of him. Aside from the fact that it so nearly could have been his family torn to ruins, aside from all noble ideas of honour and the right thing to do; the base truth was, if they didn't band together to fight Riddle, they'd face him one at a time and lose.

"We will darling," he said.

"Good. Because I will not have that madman after our Neville. I will _not_."

Frank just hugged his wife tightly in agreement.

"Good," said Alice after a pause, pulling away slightly. "So tomorrow will you go and yell at Sirius about sending me flowers and assure him will support him anyway we can, that doesn't involve Neville."

"If you like," said Frank, grinning at little at the phrasing. "If you can assure me the Darkest Wizard since Riddle isn't making a move on my wife."

Alice giggled, "Don't be silly darling. Sirius is head over heels for Amelia Bones."

"Madam Bones?"

"Merlin yes, couldn't you tell?"

-


	12. Chapter 12

-

Amelia, Snuffles asleep in her lap, drifted half-dozing, a new worry looming large with the shadows. It hadn't dawned on her before tonight, but if Harry ended up in Slytherin, Sirius was going to blame himself.

And Sirius wasn't just worried about Harry spending seven years in a hostile enviroment, he was worried about Harry choosing the ends over the means. Slytherins weren't all dark wizards of course, and each house had its own dark side, but Slytherin flaunted it's dark side, used it's dark side to tempt. Victory at all costs it promised. A Slytherin walked in darkness until they realised there were some costs they were not prepared to pay.

If Harry walked in that darkness, Sirius was never going to forgive himself. He had brought Harry up, brought him up knowing of Voldemort, exiled from the Wizarding World. It would not be so very surprising if Harry believed that victory was required at any cost.

Amelia squared her shoulders. As she had promised Sirius, whatever happened they would deal with it. Though if the little wretches didn't send word soon, she was going to scrag them next time she saw them.

The owl drifted in through the window silently. It circled the room, then keened softly. Snuffles sat up, turning back into Sirius as he did so.

He held out one hand to the owl, "Evening Hedwig."

Hedwig landed gracefully on his arm and tilted her head for a scratch. Sirius ran his fingers softly over her feathers, then retrieved the letter attached to her feet.

"Here, you read it Melia. You're the one who's worried."

Amelia let aspersion pass and carefully undid the parchment. She stared at it in disbelief,

"It doesn't say anything."

"What! Let me see that." Sirius reached out, and as soon as his hand touched the paper, it exploded.

Glittery sparkles cascaded down, paper streamers boinged across the room and black and yellow smoke swirled around.

Two joy-filled, beloved voices, cried out, "We're Hufflepuffs," then collapsed into laughter.

"Oh," said Amelia, feeling quite weak with relief. "They made it."

"Oh," said Sirius. "The little devils, it must have taken them ages to set that up. They knew, I tried so very hard and they knew all along. I am going to kill them dead."

"They can't have been sure though, about ending up in Hufflepuff," Amelia pointed out. "Nobody knows for definite."

"That just makes it worse."

"Don't be silly Sirius, every parent in the country wants one House above the others. The important thing is what would have happened if they hadn't made it. And you would never have said one harsh word to Harry or Susan about it."

"True." Sirius nodded to himself and began to look a little less fraught, then he grinned, "It was good work adapting that howler. It must have taken them ages. Not bad for a pair of firsties."

The smoke was still billowing about the room and Amelia was going to be picking glitter out of her hair for days.

"Yes it was quite good."

They grinned at each other, then Sirius suddenly put on his worried face.

"What?" demanded Amelia, unwilling to let anything spoil her delight.

"I just thought, in all of this, we never stopped to consider Hufflepuff House. Do you think they're ready for our two little devils?"

Amelia sucked in a breath of air. If she had one complaint about her old House, it was that it was a little stodgy, a little too sure that the party line was the right line. Once Susan and Harry got into their stride –

She laughed out loud. "They aren't going to know what's hit them."

-

In their beds in Hufflepuff House Susan and Harry slept the sleep of the supremely self-satisfied.

-

In the Headmaster's office Albus Dumbledore felt some of his control slipping away, though he couldn't have said how or why.

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	13. Chapter 13

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I am really sorry, this was supposed to be a Harry chapter, at least partially, but I couldn't quite mange it, although he does get a cameo. For a staring role he's going to have to wait for the next one.

This chapter is brought to you by the kindness of my parents and their internet connection. Having no internet is really strange, it's like going back to the stone age.

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Draco opened his eyes. The unfamiliar sound that had woken him resolved into the whistling-breath of Goyle's snores. Turning over grumpily, he wriggled deeper into the bed and pulled the covers over his head.

It was completely beneath his dignity to have to put up with that idiot's mouth breathing. He didn't see why he couldn't have his own room.

He had said as much to father. It hadn't gone well. His father looked down at him like he couldn't believe Draco was bothering him with these irrelevances,

"I am sure you will survive the mortification," he said and turned back to his accounts.

Draco hadn't even tried with his mama. When he complained to his mama about anything at all, she just tilted her head and said,

"You should rise above such matters Draco. You are, after all, almost a Black."

Mama was a Black. When he was little Draco thought she was a beautiful, stately queen straight out of his story books. When he told her that she had laughed her delicate laugh, like tinkling bells, and explained she was a Black, which was even better than being a queen. Draco couldn't imagine anybody daring to impinge upon his mama's gravity by doing indecorous things like snoring.

Goyle was still whistling away like an overdone kettle. Draco rolled over and put one hand over his ear.

He had asked Cousin Sirius about a private room too. Cousin Sirius had laughed, but not nastily, and explained that everyone had to share at Hogwarts because, "it builds character." Then he had laughed again and said,

"Not that I was ever in favour of having my character built. Not much fun all in all." And next time he saw him, his cousin gave him an extra present. A small book entitled 'Privacy Charms'.

"It will be good practice for you."

Draco slid out of his bed, knelt on the cold stone floor and carefully drew his trunk out from beneath the bed. After lifting the lid in one quick move to reduce the creak as much as possible, he rooted through it for his book.

His feet were icy cold by the time his hand found the small leather volume. Quickly, he burrowed back beneath the covers. Drawing his wand, he cast Lumnos, delighting in the feel of the magic responding to him, and studied his prize.

Cousin Sirius had written on the frontpiece, 'To my little cousin Draco Malfoy, with my best wishes for Hogwarts. Owl me if you need me, or even if you don't."

It was awfully nice of Cousin Sirius to bother about him. Of course Draco was his secondary heir, but Draco was old enough now to realise Cousin Sirius would get married one day and have lots of heirs. He needn't really bother with Draco at all, especially given how rich and important he was.

Not only did he have all the Black fortune, which had more heirlooms than galleons, and Potter fortune, with more galleons than heirlooms; he also had the Lestrange fortune, which had both. Draco's father was not happy about that at all. He said the Lestrange fortune should have come to Draco's mama because she was Aunt Bellatrix's heir, not Cousin Sirius. But Aunt Bellatrix wasn't dead, so that slippery conniving bastard who isn't nearly as clever as he likes to think and one day I'll prove it – Cousin Sirius, his father meant – received every sickle.

Draco had been desperately curious to know more. There hadn't been anybody he could ask. His father always grew angry and shouty when Aunt Bellatrix was mentioned and it made his mama sad to talk about Aunt Bellatrix. He had tried asking Cousin Sirius but Cousin Sirius just looked grim and unhappy and told him it was ancient history he shouldn't worry about.

Finally he found the newspaper clippings in a scrapbook tucked away with the photograph albums his mama kept in the bottom of her wardrobe in her boudoir. Draco wasn't supposed to look at them, but when his parents went on their trips abroad there wasn't anybody to stop him.

The first page of clippings made no sense at all, some unnamed girl had run away with a man, which was very shocking, although Draco didn't quite understand why. The next page had only one tiny cutting, pasted right in the centre of the paper.

'Regulus Black, disappeared and now presumed dead.'

Draco knew better than to ask either Mama or Cousin Sirius who that was.

Next there was a huge, full-page spread that hung over the edges of the scrapbook. It showed Cousin Sirius been taken away to Azkaban. The few pages after that were all about Cousin Sirius' trial, before finally he was declared innocent. Draco didn't like to look at those pages because it made his stomach hurt seeing his big, boisterous cousin look so miserable and ill

After that came Aunt Bellatrix.

The first time he saw the pictures, Draco flinched so badly, he dropped the book. His Aunt was screaming, fighting the hands of two Aurors, flinging herself about in their grip as she twisted her head to snap her teeth at them.

His cousin stood inside a cluster of Aurors and reporters. Blood was matted in his hair and smeared vivid red across his cheek and neck. He was icy pale, even his lips. They were pressed into flat line, harsh and hurting. He held his wand in his right hand and with his left, clutched a large blanket-wrapped bundle tight to his chest. A mediwizard kept trying to take the bundle off him and Cousin Sirius kept refusing to let it go. If Draco watched the photograph for long enough Cousin Sirius would eventually slam his elbow into the mediwizard's nose.

Some of the printed words were hard to make out because they'd been smudged by drops of water, but Draco read them all carefully.

'The blast that rocked the Black Family Mansion last night was felt by Wizards across London. Aurors rushed to the scene to find the usually impenetrable Mansion's wards had dropped, their power sucked dry by their Lord.

Inside they found a scene we all hoped was gone forever. In a room wrecked by explosive magic Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange and their assistant lay dead. The Dowager Lady Black, smashed into the wall by a vicious blasting hex, was unconscious. Bellatrix Lestrange, the eldest cousin of Lord Black, was apprehended fleeing the Mansion

Lord Black explained to shocked Aurors that he had been attacked in his own home by his cousin and her partners in an attempt to question him on the events of last Halloween. He provided no explanation for how they gained access to the property, known to be the most protected private residence in the Wizarding World.

Lord Black claimed his mother, who lives with him, walked in during his interrogation and was attacked in turn by his assailants. During the confusion he managed to grab a knife and fight back.

The Lestrange brothers and their accomplice died from multiple stab wounds. Barty Crouch Snr, Head of Magical Law Enforcement stated that all five wands were smashed and the fight finished in the bloodiest of Muggle fashions. Barty Crouch Snr, already under fire for the debacle of Lord Black's innocent verdict, is believed to be retiring shortly.

When pressed for a comment, Lord Black said, "They attacked Lord Black in the fucking family mansion, what did they fucking think was going to happen? I know she only admitted I was Lord Black for the five minutes she was actually pleased with me, but fucking hell."

Lord Black collapsed at the scene and was transported to St Mungos, where he was treated for exposure to the Cruciatus curse.'

The next page showed Aunt Bellatrix being taken to Azkaban. It didn't say much about her though, only that she'd confessed to being a follower of You-Know-Who. The rest of the words were about Cousin Sirius. How he had taken the opportunity of the time gap between the Lestrange brothers dying and Bellatrix running away to have Bellatrix indicted for the crime of patricide because she had attacked the Head of her Family, Bellatrix reverting to the Black family on the death of her husband. This meant Bellatrix forfeited to the Head of her Family all her worldly goods, which quite coincidentally included the Lestrange fortune she had just inherited from her husband.

The paper called him 'a jailhouse lawyer whose shameless manipulation of the justice system is an affront to all decent minded Wizards' and a 'scofflaw of the most dissolute and degraded type.' Draco studied the words closely for later use, but mostly ignored them in relation to his cousin. He was used to the papers saying nasty things about his Cousin Sirius.

The next page again had only a tiny cutting. 'Lord Black has announced the Boy-Who-Lived is his heir. Is this more cynical manipulation from the master? Or an attempt at reparations? Lord Black made no further comment. Gnawstalk, the Goblin Recorder of Wills and Trusts confirmed that the adoption ceremony took place three days after Lord Black contrived his release from Azkaban.'

That used to be the last page in the scrapbook, but when Draco looked again, just before he left for Hogwarts, a new page had been added showing that year's Hogwarts graduation class. Draco had looked very carefully but none of students was named Black so he wondered why his mama kept it. He would have like to have asked her, but of course he couldn't. He thought he might risk asking Cousin Sirius next time he saw him.

Draco fidgeted in his bed and clutched his book a little tighter.

He was always slightly anxious about talking to Cousin Sirius, because his cousin was so nice. He was afraid one day he'd do something wrong and Cousin Sirius would wash his hands of him. The Blacks disowned people all the time and if even _Cousin Sirius_ could be disowned, Draco didn't see how there was any hope for him.

He'd never even worked out what he'd done to make Cousin Sirius like him in the first place. Before they were introduced for the first time, his father'd had Draco in his study, standing poker straight before his desk, and explained to him how Draco had to be on his best behaviour or his father would be _very_ disappointed in him. Draco had swallowed hard, because he knew what that meant.

Still shivering from the frost in his father's eyes, Draco had waited quietly by his mama until they were summoned. His mama hadn't sat serenely still as she usually did, but walked up and down the small hall. Draco had watched the tassels on the hem of her pretty silver dress bounce up and down with each step. Hardly able to believe it, he realised his formidable mama was worried.

He hadn't been sure whether he was angry with Cousin Sirius for upsetting his mama, or even more scared.

When the house elf had summoned them, his mama, incredibly, had knelt down on the floor in her pretty dress to look at Draco. She flicked her wand to add an extra sheen to his boots and ironed flat the cuff of his robe where his anxious fingers had twisted it. Then she smoothed his hair into place with her own graceful hands.

"There," she said. "You will do."

To Draco's intense delight, she actually kissed his forehead.

"Make me proud, Draco."

She straightened up and flicked her wand to remove the creases in her dress from bending down. Draco gently touched his fingers to the spot her lips had touched, trying to hold onto the sensation.

"Come along."

Stumbling along after her, Draco had stared at the floor and feverishly tried to remember all of Cousin Sirius' full list of titles, because what if he forgot one and offended such a magnificent personage?

They entered the green drawing room, the one Draco was never normally allowed in. His father stood upright by the window, hands clasped behind his back. Draco wanted to run over to him and beg him to make everything all right but knew from the sternness on his father's face that he would, at best, just be pushed away.

"Sirius," said his mama, "how lovely to see you again."

There was a creak as Cousin Sirius rose from the sofa to bow over his mama's hand.

"Narcissa, you look as beautiful as ever."

"Thank you. May I have permission to introduce my son to you, Lord Black."

"I would be delighted to meet him, Mrs Malfoy."

Recognising his cue, Draco inched forwards and risked peeking up at Cousin Sirius. He caught a glimpse of long dark hair and grey eyes before tucking back in on himself.

"Lord Black, this is my son Draco Malfoy."

His mama's hand sharp on his shoulder forced him forwards. Draco knew he was supposed to speak, had rehearsed the words endlessly, but to his horror he couldn't even open his mouth. He started to shake.

"Sweet Merlin, Cissy. You've terrified the poor kid half to death." Arms suddenly wrapped themselves around Draco and lifted him high. He'd been too scared to scream – he was grateful for that afterwards.

"Come on little cousin, it's okay I promise. Come on now, calm down. You'll stroke out if you keep that up."

To Draco's surprise the arms weren't hurting him, they were just strong and there. He clutched at the body in front of him for balance and the arms curled around him tighter. Still not hurting, but secure and warm.

Cousin Sirius went on talking, his voice soft and gentle. It was a little like the tone Mama had used back when she read him stories. They moved, the armchair squeaked and Draco found himself sitting on Cousin Sirius' lap, Cousin Sirius still holding him with careful hands. Inexplicably, he was suddenly sure everything was going to be all right. He was so relieved he nearly disgraced himself by bursting into tears.

"Sssh, sssh, it's okay little cousin. Come on, I'm not that bad. Here now, tell me about yourself. What do you do in this great big house all day?"

Draco tried to answer but his tongue was too thick and uncooperative.

"Lessons I bet. What do you do for fun? Do you have any pets?"

Draco managed to shake his head.

"No? We'll have to do something about that. Can't have you showing up at Hogwarts unable to look after your own owl."

Draco raised his head a bit. That almost sounded like...

"You like the idea, huh? Well you need a welcome to the family present. I think a puffskein will do the job admirably. If that's okay with you of course, Lucius?"

"Far be it from me to reject any gift you choose to give my son," said his father, in the stiff voice that meant he was very annoyed.

Draco quaked a little and one large hand stroked through his hair.

"Oh not as a main gift Lucius, that would hardly be the proper way to recognise Draco as my secondary heir. No the puffskein will be for the boy, it doesn't do to give a small child an expensive pet to practice on, you know. As for the official gift, I'm sure I can find something appropriate in the Black Family Vault."

"That's more than good of you, Lord Black." Draco's father sounded pleased with himself and Draco heaved a sigh of relief.

"Please Lucuis, call me Sirius, we are family. Now Draco tell me, are you flying yet?"

The chance to talk about his favourite subject was not one to be missed. Draco explained all the tricks he could manage on his broom, he'd recently managed to stay balanced on one foot for almost a whole circuit of the Rose Garden. Cousin Sirius listened intently, and even suggested trying to fly a broom while doing a handstand, which Draco had never thought of at all.

"The trick," Cousin Sirius explained, "is to make sure your hands are quite far apart, for balance you see. You'll need to practice on the ground first."

"Perhaps Sirius," said his mama, "you should supervise Draco's attempts."

"Oh please," begged Draco.

"If your father says I may."

"You are welcome in my house anytime," said his father.

"Thank you Lucius. Then yes Draco, I will stop by next week."

Draco tried hard not to pout. Next week was ages away.

Cousin Sirius laughed, "I should remember how long next week is for small boys. Shall we say tomorrow afternoon instead. Cissy?"

"Thank you Sirius."

"Very good then." Cousin Sirius set Draco back on the ground. "You better go with your mama now, little cousin. Your father and I need to talk business."

"Yes sir, I mean, my lord. Thank you."

"Come along Draco," said his mama, quickly ushering him out the room.

"Congratulations Cissy," Cousin Sirius had called after them.

"Thank you my lord," said his mama. As soon as the door was shut, she smiled at Draco.

"Well done, my little dragon."

Draco wasn't quite sure what he had done, but he was glad he'd made his mama happy.

Afterwards, his father called him back into his study. Draco had been cautiously hoping for more praise.

"I was extremely disappointed with your performance. I had not thought to raise such a snivelling worm –"

Draco closed his eyes.

"– However–"

Draco's eyes popped back open.

"–Your cousin has persuaded me it was mere lack of experience –"

He would have loved Cousin Sirius for that, if nothing else.

"– Therefore you will immediately begin to attend such assemblies as will be appropriate. Sirius informs me that his ward will also attend. I expect your performance to be better than your cousin's pet mudblood."

Draco nodded his head obediently.

And that was how he met Harry Black. He liked Harry, although he had nobody but his puffskein to admit it to.

That first assembly, hearing the loud, spiky chatter of the crowd as he stood with Cousin Sirius and Harry, should have been terrifying. Somehow though, with Cousin Sirius' hand on his shoulder, it was easy to forget he was a snivelling worm and remember he was almost a Black.

Draco's father always spoke disparagingly about Cousin Sirius' little boy, so he had tried snubbing Harry. Glancing up at Cousin Sirius for approval, he had received an awful frown in response. So he had offered to play Gobstones instead and was warmed all over by Cousin Sirius' beaming smile of praise.

Cousin Sirius was wild, noisy and bold compared to Draco's own father. But somehow, despite being rather alarming, Cousin Sirius was much easier to be around. You always knew where you were with him. With his father, Draco often had no idea if he was doing well or badly until his father had lost his temper and started shouting. Draco always knew then.

He didn't quite understand what Cousin Sirius thought of Harry. Cousin Sirius said lots of unpleasant things about Harry in public but when nobody was there but Draco, he'd always hold Harry's hand. And when there were other people there he'd still keep in contact with Harry; gentle restraint at the top of stairs, drawing him close in a crowd, and firm support when Harry faced someone new. Even the cuffs across the back of Harry's head looked more like pats from Draco's eye-level viewpoint.

Draco was careful not to think about it too hard because it made him wonder too much about his own father.

Twisting around in his bed, he gave up on trying to sleep. Faint dawn light was already glowing in the enchanted window on the side of the dungeon wall. Soon it would be the golden sunrise that was charmed to appear at the same hour every day to wake them in time for breakfast.

If Draco got up now, he could at least have the bathroom to himself, even if he couldn't have a private room. Draco couldn't help feeling there was something irredeemably Muggle about using a bathroom at the same time as other people.

It was still fiercely cold, the warming charms hadn't kicked in yet and Draco was too uncertain to cast his own. Cousin Sirius had warned him to wait until he had better control of his magic or he'd risk giving himself a nasty burn in his enthusiasm to be warm.

Draco scuttled about, washing and cleaning his teeth as quickly and briefly as possible, before hurrying back to his room to dress in his Hogwarts uniform and pull on his new black cloak. He was rather sorry there wasn't a mirror available because he liked to see himself in his smart uniform, looking he thought, thoroughly grown up and almost like a Black.

He straightened his uniform to pristine correctness and slicked his hair into place as best he could without a mirror. Then he took a deep breath, collected his satchel and his current book and strode determinedly towards the common room.

He was a Slytherin and almost a Black. He was not scared.

To his intense relief there was almost nobody in the common room. A few older years were scattered about the tables, heads down concentrating on their books. Three or four students were sitting in armchairs by the fire, which, wonderfully, was burning bright. Draco spotted a free armchair and made a beeline for it. With swift, covert glances he took in the position of the other students. Reassured they were doing the same, he felt able to cuddle down into the comfy old-fashioned leather and pull the green blanket down from the back and tuck it over his knees.

He pulled out his latest book and thumbed to the correct page. He never turned down the corners – that was just wrong. His books were precious, Cousin Sirius gave him one every time he visited.

Cousin Sirius' visits were the high spot of Draco's weeks. On especially lucky days Harry would come too, but there were always flowers or pretty jewels for Draco's mama and, after the first wonderful gift of his puffskein, books for Draco. Not the boring, heavy hard-backed volumes with their squinty print that Draco had inherited when he moved from his nursery to a proper bedroom, but light paper books with bright enticing covers and thrilling stories inside.

There was Pip and Emma, who teamed up to rescue Pip's Muggle-born mama from enslavement in the castle of the evil Count; Sejanus, a poor orphan whose wicked Uncle forced him into an apprenticeship with a cruel wandmaker; Corinna, who ventured out into the Muggle world for a frantic week that culminated in stowing away on a Muggle spaceship and flying to the moon. And whole series of books; Bertie and Ginger, who flew Muggle planes during the war against Grindlewald; the Dark Star, who went about righting wrongs while pretending to be lazy aristocrat Aloysius Speedwell; and the five Evans cousins, who frustrated the dastardly plots of numerous villains during their Hogwarts holidays.

Draco's absolute favourites were about Reggie, who lived with his horrid stepfather in a big lonely mansion, and his best friend Johnny, who was a werewolf. In the very first book Reggie finds Johnny hiding in the broom-shed bleeding from being attacked by the Werewolf hunters' crups. He hides the boy away from the vicious hunters and bravely steals potions from his stepfather's laboratory to heal him. His stepfather tries to thrash Reggie, but Johnny distracts him and is caught by the hunters...

Draco stayed up half the night reading under his covers until both boys made it safely to the end of the book. Johnny's whole family had been killed by the hunters and he had no where to go, so Reggie lets him stay in an unused bedroom in his step-father's mansion (which is Reggie's really but they don't find that out until the third book).

He had never had a best friend before but he wanted one very much. He wished secretly that Johnny, or somebody like him would decide to hide in Malfoy Manor's broom-shed. Draco wouldn't let anybody hunt them down.

So last night, when Tegwen Gwilt had said she was a werewolf and one of the big sixth years, hand on his wand, had said they should deal her like a werewolf, Draco had thought of Johnny, and stepped between Tegwen and the sixth year without hesitation.

The sixth year's eyebrows had beetled down and his grip had tightened on his wand. Draco had been fiercely scared, but he'd become lots better at hiding it since the day he first met Cousin Sirius. He tilted his head just like his mama did and said,

"Everyone knows werewolves aren't dangerous except on the nights of the full moon. You're acting like a bunch of scared Hufflepuffs."

The sixth year growled something Draco didn't catch in the general uproar. He stayed where he was. Behind him Tegwen said,

"Werewolves are not infectious except when the moon is full. However if you draw your wand you will discover they can still be dangerous."

The sixth year's face puffed up angry red.

Draco did his best imitation of his father's dismissive glare. Under his breath he ran through the incantation for the Jelly-Legs Jinx Cousin Sirius had taught him. He had a nasty suspicion it would be a lot harder to cast here than in the garden at Malfoy Manor while Cousin Sirius dodged obligingly slowly.

Before he had to put his casting ability to the test, one of sixth year's friends elbowed him in the side and hissed,

"Cave! Snape."

Professor Snape stalked into the room. He shouted but in a funny quiet way that was somehow louder than a yell. All the students went silent and then one of then started to explain.

Draco preened when Professor Snape told everybody that he, Draco, had been absolutely right. He'd know he was right, of course, but it was nice to hear somebody in authority say so.

Then Tegwen said she neededn't be ashamed of being a werewolf and everybody was shouting again. Draco didn't understand what all the fuss was about. Obviously Tegwen shouldn't be ashamed of being a werewolf, there was nothing be ashamed about.

The other Slytherins were all so loud and noisy and objectionable that Draco was quite ashamed of them. He offered Tegwen his arm like a proper pureblood should,

"My lady, may I escort you away from this uncivilized rabble."

Tegwen tilted her head and studied him for a second, then she smiled,

"Why thank you Mr Malfoy, I should be delighted."

Draco didn't have anywhere to escort her exactly, but he did need to take his owl outside so Artemis could carry his report on the Sorting to his father. His father would want to know immediately that the Boy-Who-Lived was a Hufflepuff, though if he'd listened to Draco he could have know months ago. Harry had been completely determined to be a Hufflepuff (for reasons Draco just couldn't understand), and Harry failing at something he'd set his mind to was even more unlikely than the Puffs being stupid enough to turn him down.

Draco picked up Artemis' cage with his free hand, and he and Tegwen strolled out the common room.

He had wanted to ask her about being a werewolf, but he knew that would be rude. Instead he asked her who her favourite Quidditch team were, then winced because none of Pureblood girls he met at the assemblies liked Quidditch. The only girl he knew who did was Harry's best friend Susan.

But Tegwen just smiled and said,

"The Holyhead Harpies, obviously. And the Brecon Rovers, don't bother to say you've never heard of them, nobody outside of Wales ever has."

But Draco had heard of them,

"My friend Harry likes them. He says they're die-hards who'll slog it out until it doesn't matter which Seeker catches the snitch."

"That's them." Tegwen grinned.

"It's a bit of rubbish tactic really. Harry likes that sort of thing because he's a _Beater_," said Draco with scorn, "even though he's so little and fast he should play Seeker. Cousin Sirius is a Beater too. It's cause their both Philistines, Mama says. Father played Chaser, but I think Seeker is best because you're the one who wins the match. What position do you play?"

"Chaser. And it's Chasers who win the match, no matter what you ego-tripping Seekers think," she smiled slyly.

Horrified by this heresy, Draco cried, "Oh come on!"

And the battle commenced.

They were still arguing, when Professor Snape found them.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing squabbling in the corridors, you ill-disciplined brats."

"We're not squabblin'," said Draco, affronted. "We are discussing the finer points of the matter."

"Right." Professor Snape's eyes closed briefly. "Why are you in the corridor?"

"I need to send my father an owl."

"Of course you do." Professor Snape glared, and Draco started to fidget nervously because his father would not be pleased if he didn't receive the letter, even if Draco had told him what it would say months ago.

"Fine," the Professor relented. "Follow me."

The Professor led them around two quick turns and up a short staircase until they reached a window which he opened.

Draco hurriedly knelt down to let Artemis out her cage. She hopped onto his arm and he carried to window.

"Of you go then girl. Give the letter to father, but don't eat any of the toast he offers you. It's not good for you."

Artemis hooted in reply, leapt smoothly off his arm and took flight. Professor Snape shut the window with a bang.

"If you are quite ready Mr Malfoy..."

"Thank you Professor," said Draco, remembering his manners.

"Hmph, very well. Let us return to the dormitory." They started to walk. An even sourer expression briefly crossed the Professor's face.

"Miss Gwilt, I regret to inform you there may be some issue with you joining the first year girl's dormitory immediately. For tonight I think it best if you sleep in the room set aside for a Slytherin head girl, which is empty at present. Tomorrow we will make further arrangements."

"Thank you Professor."

"You get your own room," said Draco enviously, "how lucky is that."

"Very lucky," said Tegwen. Draco didn't think she sounded as happy he would though. The blankness of her face made him feel bad, though he wasn't sure why.

"We can go flying tomorrow," he said; because flying always made him feel better. "Once we've had our first lesson, Harry and I are going to play some one on one. You can come too and then Susan can join in as well. It will be fun, do come?" He held his breath hopefully. He desperately wanted to be able take Tegwen along and introduce her to Harry, and Susan, who wouldn't be as annoying if he had a best friend of his own.

Not that he really minded Susan, but when she and Harry spoke together, Draco was left feeling as if he should apologise for eavesdropping. Even when they are talking about something completely innocuous like Harry's pet dog.

"Okay."

"Great," Draco grinned. "Susan's a beater too, because she and Harry always do everything the same. And they always argue that it's the Beaters who win the game."

"Oh now that is just ridiculous."

Draco beamed. Tegwen had lost that horrible bleak look and now he had an ally against the Beater conspiracy. Tegwen might have some weird ideas about Chasers but she had a proper understanding of where Beaters came in the hierarchy.

Professor Snape had shown Tegwen the head girl's room, then given Draco directions to the first year boy's dormitory. Before he dismissed him, Professor Snape had stared fiercely at him, as if he was trying to see the magic inside him. Draco ducked his head

"Professor?"

"Go to bed Mr Malfoy."

So Draco had, and had even managed to fall asleep despite his relief and excitement and the huffling breaths of the other sleeping boys.

He gave up on reading, the excitement of the Pranksters Adventures at Hogwarts paled in comparison to the excitement of actually being _at_ Hogwarts. Peeking over the top of the book, he darted quick looks around the common room taking everything in.

The door opened, everyone turned to stare, and Tegwen walked in.

Everybody kept on staring.

Draco waved,

"Hi Tegwen, did you sleep well?"

"Yes thank you," she said, looking around the room like she expected somebody to tell she wasn't wanted there.

Draco knew how that felt. Harry and Cousin Sirius had a way of walking into a strange room full of unknown people as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Draco was helplessly envious of them. The best he could do was imitate his father's head in the air, you are bugs beneath my feet, stare.

"Come sit with me," he called, beckoning her over.

Tegwen's face brightened. She walked over to him and Draco admired her firm, steady pace and relaxed posture. When he was feeling nervous, he usually gave himself away by hunching up his shoulders. If he spotted it, his father would rap him across his shoulders with his cane to remind him not to slouch. Cousin Sirius never said anything about slouching but he always made sure to stand especially close. It was impossible not to uncurl in Cousin Sirius' presence, it was like standing in the sunshine.

One time Harry had caught him out, and he had actually taken Draco's hand in his.

Draco snatched his hand back, revolted and embarrassed, "What are you playing at Black?"

"I always hold Susan's hand when she's feeling nervous."

"I am not," said Draco with great dignity, "nervous."

"If you say not," said Harry cordially and jabbed him under the ribs with two sharp fingers.

"Hey," he'd yelped and had forgotten all about being nervous.

Harry poked him between the ribs rather a lot. Maybe, Draco thought hopefully, Tegwen could come to the next assembly and he could hold her hand to stop her feeling nervous.

He smiled as she arrived at his armchair and wriggled over to make room for her to sit down. She heeled off her shoes and perched herself easily on the arm, placing her feet on the seat cushion for balance. Draco flipped his blanket over her knees.

"Thank you," said Tegwen, tucking it around herself to keep the heat in. "Did you sleep well?"

Draco opened his mouth to complain about the racket the other boy's made and then closed it again. Harry teased him about being prissy, and while Draco certainly was _not_, he didn't want anybody making the same mistake as Harry.

"It was okay," he said. "I'm looking forward to the tour of the school, aren't you?"

"Oh yes. I've heard all about it, but it isn't the same as being here." She cast an awed look around the common room.

Draco bounced slight in his seat before he remembered himself. "I know I –"

"Malfoy! There you are!"

Draco jerked round to stare at Goyle lumbering towards him.

"Yes I am here. Was there something you required?" He tried to draw himself up to his full height but it was too hard in the squishy armchair. Deciding, Tegwen had the right idea, he eeled up to sit on the opposite arm. The change in position left him able to look down on Goyle, which was a definite improvement.

Goyle's face screwed up as a thought developed.

"What are you sitting with her for? She's a girl."

"What does that have to do with anything?" asked Draco, completely perplexed.

"Yeah," demanded a girl who'd just appeared. She was almost as big as Goyle. "Are you saying there's something wrong with girls?"

"Uh." Goyle's mouth hung open. After a moment, he just turned his back on his questioner and restated his position, "Boys shouldn't sit with girls. If they do they're sissies."

"That's ridiculous," said Draco confidently. Harry was the most un-sissy boy Draco knew and Harry always sat by Susan if he had the choice.

"A better question," said another voice, loud and truculent, "is why is Malfoy is sitting with the werewolf."

"Higgs, careful now," warned another boy.

Draco twisted around to spot the first speaker. It was the angry sixth year from the night before. He still didn't understand why the boy was so cross.

"Tegwen's my friend. Why shouldn't I sit with her?"

He felt Tegwen jump through the chair but she controlled it so well, nobody else would have been able to tell.

Higgs stalked forwards, "So you admit to being friends with the beast. Or rather the bitch."

"You can't say that!" squawked Draco, completely shocked. And was mortified to hear how high-pitched and squeaky his words sounded. He took a deep slow breath to ensure his voice would come out steady. "No true Wizard would use such a term in a Witch's presence. Standards certainly appear to have slipped at Hogwarts. I shall be writing to my father about it."

"Oh you arrogant little git." Higgs yanked hard at the back of armchair, the whole thing pivoted on its back legs, tipping them backwards. Draco clutched instinctively at Tegwen and she grabbed him in return. Together they managed to maintain their balance and shift slightly to adjust to the new angle.

Draco remembered Cousin Sirius' trick of talking to one person, while aiming the words at another. He smiled at Tegwen,

"I am sorry," he said, "I don't what has come over the poor chap. Do you think he is suffering from the effects of the cold?"

"Quite possibly," she replied, as the sixth year jostled the chair trying to unseat them. Unfortunately for him Draco had been keeping his seat on a broom since he was four and Tegwen seemed equally apt. "Perhaps we should summon the school nurse?"

Roaring with frustration, Higgs hauled on the chair, levering it onto one back leg and spinning the whole thing around to send it, and them, clattering across the floor.

It had been inevitable, and Draco had taken the precaution of clenching his teeth tight together so he was able to smash into the floor without disgracing himself. After all he'd been crashing off his broom since Harry first visited Malfoy Manor.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Draco's rattled brain realised it was Professor Snape. He and Tegwen hurriedly scrambled to their feet.

"Mr Higgs, I believe I was excruciatingly clear about the conduct I expected from my House with regard to Miss Gwilt."

Higgs, pale face and flushed cheeks, growled, "She's a werewolf."

"He does keep saying that," said Tegwen, "as if it were some form of logical argument. I do believe you are right Draco, the cold has affected his brain."

"Naturally," said Draco in his grandest manner. "No Slytherin would act like that if he were in his right mind."

Professor Snape's eyes narrowed, "Is this correct Mr Higgs? Has the cold turned your head?"

"Yes sir," he muttered sulkily, "sorry sir."

"Your apologies would be better directed elsewhere, but we shall not aim for the moon. Report to Madam Pomfrey and request a draught of Kowalski's Purgative."

"Sir!" Higgs glared at the Potion's Master. Professor Snape glared back and eventually Higgs' gaze dropped, "Yes sir."

"Very good. You may go."

"Yes sir," he mumbled and fled.

"The rest of you may go to breakfast. Miss Gwilt, if you will remain here."

Draco stayed too. Professor Snape glared, but it was half-hearted in comparison to Draco's father so he didn't have any problems staying put as the room emptied around them.

"Miss Gwilt?"

"Draco is my friend, sir, I don't mind if he stays."

Draco had to call on all his father's training to restrain the smile that was trying to split his face in two. He stepped a little closer to Tegwen.

"As you will Miss Gwilt. Now I am afraid to say I have already received a number of owls that suggest it may be unsuitable for you to join the first year girl's dormitory."

"I understand, sir. It's okay. I can stay on my own."

"No," snapped Professor Snape. "I will approach the Prefects for volunteers after breakfast."

"She can stay with me," said Draco eagerly.

"Mister Malfoy, are you suggesting you and Miss Gwilt _share_ a room."

"No, but we could share one of the upper year suites." Draco's eagerness grew as he realised what that meant. "We'd have our own rooms," he tried hard to keep his delight at the idea off his face, "and we'd share the sitting and bath room."

He looked beseechingly up at Professor Snape and bit his tongue to stop himself begging. It sounded like heaven, he'd have his own room, _and_ he'd get to share with his new friend.

"I would not be opposed to the idea," said Tegwen hopefully.

"Hmph," grunted Professor Snape. "Very well, we will attempt the experiment on a trial basis."

"Thank you, sir," Draco remained determinedly correct and polite, while inside he was dancing.

"Yes sir. Thank you indeed. I am very grateful," said Tegwen.

"Hmph. Go to breakfast. I will speak to the house elves."

"Yes sir."

"Thank you sir."

Tegwen grabbed his hand and they ran quickly from the common room before the Professor could change his mind.


End file.
